The Law Of Unintended Consequences
by AlphaWolf13
Summary: Before their grade ten year, the eight old friends of Ms. Frizzle's third grade class ask her to take them on one last trip. They didn't anticipate however that with one trip their lives could change forever having gained new abilities in their travles.
1. The Storm

**Hello readers. I've always wanted to write a FanFiction like this, so here it is. This is set in the summer before the gang go to Walkerville High (which in my mind goes from grades 10 to 12 so they're all roughly 15). And now yes, I know, this storyline has been used a lot but trust me, I will make it interesting. So bear with me. Plus, Dorothy Ann's last name is never mentioned so I've decided to name her D.A. Hoover. It seems suitable.**

**Here's a little insight as to what happened to get the characters to where they are when the story starts. Obviously, Ms. Frizzle isn't their teacher anymore. But the gang has been drifting apart a lately so they decided to ask the Frizz to take them on a trip before school started and they were split up into separate classes, which wouldn't help the strain between their friendships. The Frizz agreed and that's what brings us to where we are. **

**Disclaimer: I only wish I were the one to come up with a concept as genius as the Magic School Bus. But, when the Magic School Bus first came out, I wasn't even born yet. I therefore can't take credit even if I wanted to. **

**Chapter 1**

**The Storm **

"So where does everyone want to go?" Ms. Frizzle asked, already seated behind the wheel. Since the 90s her look had changed drastically. Her hair for instance wasn't so unruly and certainly wasn't done in a beehive anymore. She had it straightened and held back in a tight ponytail at the nape of her neck. She was wearing a deep blue silk blouse tucked into high-waist dress pants. And, believe it or not, she had on three inch stiletto heels. Now she looked like the professional she was.

And the Frizz wasn't the only one who had changed. Though their personalities had stayed mostly the same, the gang's looks had changed monumentally.

Keesha's hair had lightened over the years, leaving her with a nice dark caramel colour. It had stayed curly and she liked it that way. She no longer pulled it back shamefully into a ponytail. She let it fall wildly, framing her face and coming to rest just past her shoulders. Today, she was wearing a dark purple camisole and dark skinny jeans. She pulled it off flawlessly, as she had a willowy frame and flawless skin.

Dorothy Ann's hair had grown out to reach the base of her shoulder blades. Again, like Keesha, the ponytails had been swapped for a more natural approach. Unlike Keesha though, her hair was pin straight and had remained basically the same color it had always been. She was of pretty average height and weight but they way she dressed was anything but average. Her toned legs were accentuated by a ruffled violet miniskirt. She wore an extremely tight-fitting, black, long-sleeved shirt atop that and across her waist, there was a loose-fitting, violet belt.

Tim had done little but get taller and let his hair grow out a few inches to change his look, but somehow it worked. He seemed like a completely different person. He still wore his signature, boot cut jeans topped with and American Eagle polo – today's polo was light blue – but he looked older and wiser and smelled like orange blossom aftershave and cinnamon chewing gum.

Wanda, she had really grown up. She kept her boyish frame and her dwarfish height, only growing about a foot and a half since third grade. But, her hairstyle and lifestyle in general had changed. She wore her hair in a spiky bob that reached her cheeks and had a massive, eye-hiding side bang. She had gone a little Goth on top of coming out as being bisexual. For the trip, she'd taken it easy on the makeup but dressed in black. She had on a black, corset style tube top that reviled about an inch of her midriff before her low-rise, ripped skinny jeans took their place. She had red suspenders on, one on her shoulder and the other hanging down, as well as red mesh, fingerless gloves.

Arnold had also grown up. His hair was tousled and he had swapped his old nerdy glasses for a pair of more slender, stylish one. He was still scrawny and pale, but he had come into his own. One of the biggest changes in his life was that, believe it or not, little Arnold Perlstein had gotten himself a girlfriend. He and Phoebe had been dating for a little over a year now. It was really sweet. Today, Arnold was wearing a pale yellow dress shirt and faded blue jeans. He also wore the necklace Phoebe got him for their one year anniversary. It was a hemp necklace that held a small Celtic knot with an amber stone in the center.

Carlos had grown to an astounding height. His hair fell loosely down past his ears and did this adorable little curling thing at the ends. His usual style included an Abercrombie t-shirt and jeans. Today he wore a deep red shirt and black jeans.

Ralphie's biggest accomplishment since third grade had been loosing his baby fat and almost doubling his weight in muscle. He was the tallest of the group. His hair was cut short and spiked. He was wearing a green t-shirt under his football jacket and jeans.

Last but not least was Phoebe. Out of all the girls she had become the most beautiful by far. She had a girl-next-door look. Her long, brown hair held a touch of red and fell in waves down her back to her waist. She had developed sensual curves and her legs were long and slender. She was often referred to as a hippy in junior high. Today, she was wearing her yellow _I support the ASPCA _shirt over a forest green tank top with a moss green peasant skirt. She had several PETA wristbands on plus one that said _meat is murder_. Yes, Phoebe was a vegan and she was proud of it. She had even converted Arnold over to vegetarianism. Speaking of Arnold, around her neck she wore the necklace he had gotten her for her birthday. It was a gold chain with a little gold paw charm embedded with emeralds.

"Let's get intergalactic," Carlos suggested.

"Yeah," Wanda chimed in. "I used to love our trips to outer space."

"It's one of the prettiest places we've ever been," D.A. agreed.

"I'd kill to sketch the scenery of another planet," Tim added.

"And think of the rocks I could bring back for Granite," Arnold said happily, referring to the geologic society he was a member of.

"Sounds like a plan than," Ms. Frizzle agreed. She pulled a few levers and the bus shot up into the air. As they broke free of earth's orbit, the Frizz asked them what planet they wanted to visit.

"Why don't we just float around for a while and maybe we'll pass a planet that looks interesting," Phoebe suggested.

"That's sounds like a good –" Keesha began before Ralphie cut her off.

"It sounds like as good a plan as any," he said, being the only one not to notice Keesha gazing at him affectionately. He didn't even realize she had spoken.

"Than let's put it on drift," Ms. Frizzle said in her sultry voice as she pressed a button on the dash. "Bus, do your stuff."

While they drifted, they all split up into their separate groups. Dorothy Ann was posing for Tim to sketch. Ralphie and Wanda were in an intense debate on whose favourite football team was the best. Keesha stood on her own, looking out into space through the big picture window and Carlos was staring at Dorothy Ann in all her beauty.

Phoebe sat on Arnold's lap in a big, space cadet chair. They were whispering and giggling and acting like they'd been a couple for nothing more than a few days, stuck in that touchy stage.

Carlos came walking over to the couple with a scared but determined look on his face.

"Hey Phoebs, can I borrow Arnold for a bit?" he asked.

"Yeah, no problem," Phoebe replied. "I was just going to go over and check in on Keesha anyway. She looks really bummed."

"Can you blame her?" Arnold asked and the trio looked over at a disheartened Keesha who was glancing at Ralphie on and off out of the corner of her eye. Ralphie however noticed nothing and continued carrying on with Wanda.

"Alright, see you later baby," Phoebe said, sliding off Arnold's lap and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Yeah," Arnold returned, letting her hand slip out of his and watching her as she walked away.

"What did you want to talk about, Carlos?" Arnold asked when he'd finally finished watching his girlfriend.

"I'm gonna do it," Carlos said, letting out the breath he'd been holding.

"Well good for you," Arnold said, not putting much faith behind his friend's words. This was how all their conversations started yet he never seemed to go through with what he was saying. Carlos had a resolve with a reputation of quavering.

"No, I'm serious this time, Arn," Carlos insisted. "I see what you and Phoebe have and I want it. And so what if she rejects me?" he said, indignantly, pulling a chair behind him.

"I envy your courage," Arnold commented. Here it comes.

"But what if she rejects me?" Carlos whined, plopping down into the chair behind him. Thirty-eight seconds; a new record. "I don't want to ruin our friendship."

"Well, I guess the question you have to ask yourself is whether of not you're satisfied with just being friends," Arnold said.

"I'm not Arn, I'm really not," Carlos admitted. "But I'm too scared to do anything about it."

"Well, if you can't scrounge up the courage to ask her out on just one date, than maybe she's not the right girl. If you won't risk it all to have a chance with her, than she isn't the one."

"But she is."

"Than do something about it. Nice girls will come and go but you only get _The One_ once. If D.A.'s your _One_ than what are you doing beating around the bush?"

"You're so right," Carlos chuckled in defeat. "How is it that you're the only one of the gang that has a girlfriend? I mean, you're _The Other Guy_. Tim's the quiet, artistic guy. Ralphie's the big sports jock. And me, I'm the funny, charismatic one. We make the girls go wild. You're just that nerd who hangs out with us."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Carlos," Arnold laughed. "But I understand what you mean. I am _The Other Guy_. But girls like Phoebe and D.A. like _The Other Guy_. They aren't into what makes everyone else go gaga. They have their own style. Phoebe's your typical girl next door. So why not date you're typical guy like Raphie the football player or Carlos the comedian? Because she's her own person and that's not what she wants."

"Great, but if D.A. doesn't like the typical guy, that doesn't help me. I thought you said I was the typical guy," Carlos pointed out.

"No, you're Phoebe's typical guy," Arnold corrected. "D.A.'s typical guy is someone smart who plays by the books."

"Arn, that's not exactly a compliment."

"No, you're not unintelligent in a bad way. You're not unintelligent at all. You just aren't book smart. You do things your way. D.A. does things by the books. She follows the instructions. You experiment," Arnold explained. "Celebrate. You're D.A.'s _Other Guy_."

"Yeah," Carlos agreed. "Besides, if I can't risk it all to be with her, than what kind of man am I? Certainly not one who can say they've fallen for someone."

"So you're gonna go for it?" Arnold asked.

"I'm gonna go for it. Wish me luck."

Meanwhile, Phoebe was over giving her love advice to Keesha.

"I feel so invisible," Keesha admitted. "He doesn't even acknowledge that I exist."

"And yet you still like him," Phoebe said in disbelief.

"I know, it's stupid right. I should just give it up, but I can't. He's something else," Keesha mumbled.

"Did you ever consider telling him how you feel?" Phoebe asked. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Ah, absolute humiliation for one," Keesha answered. "I'd rather have him ignore me than laugh at me."

"If you like this guy as much as you say you do, don't you think you should trust him to be understanding? I wouldn't like a guy I thought would disregard my feelings and make fun of me for them."

"But I'm too shy," Keesha sighed. "Maybe this whole crush will blow over."

"You've liked him since second grade," Phoebe snapped. "This isn't something that's gonna blow over."

"He sure as hell had no trouble getting it to blow over," Keesha said, sadly.

"Keesh, he's a guy. It doesn't work the same way. Sure, you guys were practically inseparable until the seventh grade but things change. He joined sports teams and became a jock. You got quiet and withdrawn. You belong in separate worlds now and maybe that's not a bad thing," Phoebe sympathized, wrapping an arm around Keesha's shoulder.

"Than why does it feel like it?" Keesha asked.

"Because letting go is hard," Phoebe murmured. "Change is hard, whether it's good or bad. We like things to be consistent. Nobody likes not knowing. But we've got to get out there and shake it up. We can't stay stationary, no matter how safe it feels. Humans are made to move."

"Thanks Phoebe."

Suddenly, an alarm blared out into the space bus. Red lights began to flash wildly around and a mechanical voice declared a state of emergency.

"Ms. Frizzle, what's going on," Carlos asked, a hint of worry in his voice. Ms. Frizzle had gotten them in plenty of trouble before but this time she actually looked worried.

"There's a wave of cosmic radiation headed our way," Ms. Frizzle announced. "Buckle up kids," she ordered.

But before anyone could comply, the bus was jolted slightly. The group was knocked off their feet and crashed onto the hard floor.

"Phoebe," Arnold called, getting on his hands and knees, scrambling over to his girlfriend. She was in the corner, cradling Keesha. Phoebe had a gash on her forehead and Keesha was holding her wrist.

"Are you alright?" Arnold said, pushing aside a chair that had been knocked over.

"Yeah, just a little banged up," Phoebe replied.

"What was that, Ms. Frizzle?" D.A. wondered.

"Pre-shock," she answered. "I can't outrun it at the rate it's moving. We're going to have to ride it out."

She pushed a button and the same mechanic voice stated that the solar shields were being raised.

"Take a s –"

And then the storm hit. They went flying back with a blast.

"D.A.," Carlos cried, lunging behind her and letting her crash into him instead of the hard wall behind them.

The bus flipped sideways and they went crashing into the wall. Ms. Frizzle was the only one who managed to buckle herself in before the turbulence started.

After a good ten minutes of being jostled around, one final wave struck them and they were hurdled through space. By this time, they had all blacked out.

Keesha was the first to come to. She held her head in her hand and moaned. That last wave seemed to have sent them on a crash course to Earth. Or maybe Ms. Frizzle had steered them home. Either way, they were now all lying outside the beaten bus.

Keesha heard Wanda moan from somewhere over to her left.

"Hey Wanda," Keesha said, looking down at the bruised girl.

"Keesh, where the hell are you?" Wanda muttered, looking directly up at her.

"You're looking right at me silly," Keesha sighed. "Maybe the tumble messed your vision."

"Oh my God, there's something touching my arm," Wanda squealed.

"That's me," Keesha said.

"No, I'm looking at my arm and there's nothing there," Wanda insisted.

"What are you saying?" Keesha giggled. But as she looked down, she realized that there was no hand where her hand was supposed to be. In her shock the air rippled and her hand slowly became visible again.

"Holly cow," Wanda gasped trying to monitor her language. "Keesh, you were invisible!"

"I was what now?" Keesha gulped. But before either girl could continue their freak-out, there was a loud string of profanities yelled from over to their left. Keesha helped Wanda to her feet and they went over to see what was the matter.

They found Tim standing beside the bus, shaking his head wildly.

"I had so many plans," he whined. "I was gonna go to art school, have a crappy apartment, live off Mr. Noodles and Alphaghetti until I finally made a name for myself at which point I'd become a household name and I'd live basked in the glory of my own awesomeness."

"Uh, Tim, what are you going on about?" Wanda wondered. Tim started and turned to face the girls who had seemingly snuck up on him.

"You can see me?" Tim asked, perplexed.

"Please don't tell me you're going invisible too," Wanda moaned.

"Invisible? What, no," Tim said. "I was actually referring to this." He gestured to something under the bus. The girls approached and gasped as they saw Tim's body wedged under the overturned yellow heap.

Keesha warily stuck her hand out and gasped as it passed through Tim's shoulder.

"Oh crap," she uttered. "I don't want to jump to any conclusions, but I think Tim's dead."

"Well there certainly aren't two of him," Wanda retorted. "Do you feel dead?"

"I don't know, I've never been dead before," Tim replied. "I feel sort of dethatched from my body, but still attached to Earth, like I'm floating. I don't think that makes me dead. I don't feel like I'm supposed to be crossing over or anything."

"Maybe it's an OBE," Keesha said. "An out of body experience. Wanda, you should check his pulse."

And Wanda did as she was asked.

"He's alive," she said, disbelieving.

"I'm what?" Tim asked, incredulously. "I can't...whoa, wait, I feel weird."

The words were barely out of his mouth before his spirit body was sucked inside the body under the bus. Under The Bus Tim coughed and his eyes fluttered open.

"I just had the trippiest dream," he muttered, his voice hoarse.

"Did it involve you standing over your body talking to us?" Wanda wondered.

"Yeah, how did you..." he trailed off, getting his bearing, then gasped. "That wasn't a dream, was it?"

"We need to get this bus off you so we can figure out what the hell's going on," Wanda said, reaching down and pulling on the bus as hard as she could, trying to get it to move but it was much too heavy for her. Keesha tried to help, but they still weren't strong enough.

"Go see if you can get help," Tim requested.

"Keesh, you go, I'll stay here," Wanda ordered. Keesha nodded and went off in search of the others. She didn't have to go far before she found Arnold lying on his side, unconscious, as Phoebe fussed over a gash on his arm.

"Phoebe," Keesha called. Phoebe looked up with tearstained eyes and ushered Keesha forward.

"Is he alright?" she asked.

"From what I can tell, he's just unconscious," Phoebe replied. "Where's Ms. Frizzle?"

"I don't know," Keesha said. "I was looking for her, or for someone, to help. Tim's stuck under the bus and Wanda and I can't get him out."

"Help me carry Arnold over and I'll see if I can help."

Keesha nodded and picked up Arnold's legs while Phoebe hooked her arms under his armpits. They drug him over to where Wanda was still trying to get Tim free.

"Damn it, nothing's working," she screamed furiously, pounding her fist against the side of the bus. The metal turned red and melted under her touch.

"Oh my God," Phoebe gasped. "Did you see that? What the hell was that?"

"Something is really not right with us," Wanda breathed, taking in her surroundings. "Where the hell is Ms. Frizzle? Where is everyone?"

"Do we qualify as everyone?" Carlos asked, coughing as he limped over, his arm slung around D.A.'s shoulder for support, his left leg gushing blood.

"Shit, Carlos, are you alright?" Wanda exclaimed, rushing over and supporting him on his other side.

"Yeah, I just gotta sit down," he replied, swaying slightly. The girls led him over to an overturned bus tire that had fallen off and sat him down. D.A. knelt in front of him and pulled up his pant leg. Carlos hissed in protest as the fabric brushed against his open cut.

"Sorry," D.A. apologized. "But I have to check your wound, okay?"

"Nothing I can't live through," Carlos replied, hissing again. "Damn it D.A., your hands are cold!"

"Sorry."

"I hate to be a bother," Tim sighed. "But if we could all just call for help, or at least find some way to get me out from under here. My legs are kinda going numb."

Phoebe pulled Arnold's cell out from his jeans' pocket and scowled. "There's no service."

"I don't even know where we are," D.A. said, frowning. She looked around but could see only forest on all sides.

Arnold groaned and coughed, trying to sit up. Phoebe instantly put an arm behind his back to steady him.

"Hey baby, are you alright?" she asked.

"Killer headache," Arnold replied, taking off his surprisingly undamaged glasses and rubbing his eyes.

"Has anyone seen Ralphie?" Keesha asked, still trying with Wanda's help to move the bus. They all shook their heads no.

"And Ms. Frizzle, is there any sign of her?" D.A. wondered. Again, no one had seen her.

"Guys, this is really starting to hurt," Tim insisted, wriggling then wincing in pain.

"Where's a buff football player when you need one?" Carlos complained, hissing again as D.A. tightened her violet belt around his thigh to stop the bleeding.

"Has anyone actually checked _inside_ the bus?" Phoebe asked. They all stopped and hung their heads. Yeah, that might have been a good idea.

"I'll take a look," Phoebe offered, taking their silence as a _yes_.

She got up and walked over to the overturned heap, circling around to the back to see if she could get in through the windshield. She sighed, disheartened, when she was that there was a small, person-sized hole out of her reach towards the top of the bus. She tried to climb her way up, but the hood was too slick. Desperate, she tried to drive her nails in and gasped when she heard the metal grind and snap. She pulled her hand back as though it were on fire and gasped as she looked down to see a claw-like hand in the place of her regular, human one.

"This is not normal," she said under her breath, her voice shaking with horror. She lifter her other hand to examine it and noticed that it was completely normal. Hesitantly, she willed the hand to morph, to grow claws like the other. And she watched in disbelief as she saw it happen.

Cautiously, she stabbed her claws back into the hood and began to haul herself up to the opening. She crawled through and landed with a thud on the bus's side, her hands returning to normal with the shock.

"Ralphie?" she called, finally getting her bearings. "Ms. Frizzle?"

"Phoebe, over here," Ralphie called weakly from somewhere towards the back of the bus. She made her way over, clambering over seats, until she found him, slung over a seat tangled in loose wires and ropes.

"I can't get untangled," he said, twisting around, giving himself rope burn, trying to break free.

"Hold still," she ordered, reassuringly placing a hand on his forearm. She went behind him and willed herself to grow her claws once more, cutting through Ralphie's bindings with ease.

"You're all set," she said once she was done. "Have you seen Ms. Frizzle?"

"No," he replied. "Where are the others?"

"Waiting outside. We need your muscles Ralphie, Tim's stuck under the bus," Phoebe explained.

"Holy shit," Ralphie uttered. "How hurt is he?" he asked as he and Phoebe began to make their way back to the front of the bus, to their way out.

"Just some mild discomfort," she replied. "He's not getting squished, he's just wedged in too tight to get him out."

Phoebe sidestepped a gaping hole in one of the seats, causing the bus to shift. There was a scream heard from outside.

"Unless of course we move the bus the wrong way," she exclaimed and she and Ralphie darted towards the exit.

"Phoebe, what the hell did you do?" Wanda screamed as she futilely tried to get Tim out. The bus, as Phoebe had guessed, was trying to flatten him.

"Back up," Ralphie ordered, running over and grabbing the side of the bus. With an easy jerk one would associate with lifting a five pound bag of sugar, he hoisted the bus a good four feet off the ground and threw it to the side. He reached down to help Tim to his feet but then stopped, just realizing that the bus had not weighed five pounds but more to the point of twenty thousand pounds.

"...the hell?" he whispered, looking at his hand, wondering when it had started to be able to pick up stuff that heavy.

"You're not alone," Wanda assured him. "I melted a part of the bus."

"And I was invisible," Keesha added.

"And I left my body, except everyone could see me," Tim continued.

"I grew claws," Phoebe admitted, shuddering at the memory.

"Man, and now I have super strength," Ralphie concluded. He looked to Dorothy Ann, Carlos and Arnold. "Have any of you done anything weird?"

They all shook their heads _no_.

"Well maybe you just haven't had the right opportunity," Wanda said, offering up her explanation. "I only did...whatever it was I did... when I was frustrated.

"Exactly, it could be stress-triggered," Ralphie said.

"I was unconscious when I did my thing," Tim added as Phoebe fussed over his injuries, noting that the right tibia had been broken in several places and that the only reason he wasn't screaming in pain was an obvious adrenal rush.

"Regardless of what's going on, we need medical attention," Phoebe said.

"And we need to find Ms. Frizzle," Arnold furthered. "God, my head is killing me."

"Does anyone else hear sirens?" Carlos asked after a moment of silence.

The gang listened intently and soon they did hear the roar of an approaching ambulance.

"Somebody must have seen us crash," Ralphie sighed in relief.

"Or the Frizz called it in," Wanda noted.

"But where the hell is she?" Carlos muttered.

They all fell silent and busied themselves with looking at the ground. They were all thinking the same thing. _What if she hadn't made it_? They remained quite until a chorus of voicing began calling: "is there anybody out there?"


	2. Day One

**Alright, chapter two, coming up. Quick question for anyone who knows the answer. What's D.A.'s little sister's name? I think it's Evan, that's what I understand when her mom says it. Besides, Evan is a cool name. She'll be showing up in the next chapter or maybe the chapter after that, so I just want to be sure. But if no one knows, I'll stick with Evan. But anyway, enough about the future. Please do enjoy the present chapter and review :D**

**Chapter 2**

**Day One **

One month, two weeks, three days. It had been one month, two weeks and three days since the accident, and there was still no sign of Ms. Frizzle. There was still no sign of their abilities disappearing. For everyone other than Carlos and D.A. that is. Neither of them had shown any signs of having gained an ability at all. Arnold had discovered his ability the week after the crash. He and Phoebe had gone hiking and she had slipped and sprained her ankle. Needing to find her somewhere to sit, Arnold had desperately wished there was a chair nearby. And then, the earth beside them shifted and grew until it had formed a chair of ground and moss. He had begun experimenting and found that he the earth would do whatever he willed it to.

D.A., still a huge bookworm, had done some research on supernatural phenomena and had appropriately named all of her friend's abilities. Ralphie and Keesha's abilities were rather self explanatory; superhuman strength and invisibility. Wanda, being able to control fire, was pyrokinetic and Arnold, being able to control the earth, was geokinetic. Tim's out of body thing was more properly known as astral projection. Phoebe had shown that she was able to transform either wholly or in part into various animals, having D.A. name her ability animal morphing. Though even with all her research, she couldn't find a definite cause to her friend's changes or a reason for which she and Carlos hadn't been affected.

But all their preoccupations with their condition flew out the window about a week ago when even they came face to face with the jarring reality of an even more frightening situation – high school.

"Oh, come on, why is this thing so impossible to read?" Wanda scowled and she walked down the semi-empty halls of Walkerville High, trying to figure out where she was headed for her next class. The distinct smell of burning paper filled the air and Wanda looked down to see her schedule burning in her hands.

"Oh shit," Wanda exclaimed, crumpling the page in her hand and smothering the fire. "So much for figuring out how to read this damn thing."

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a familiar figure walking down the hall. She took off in a run to catch up with him.

"Tim!"

"Oh, hey Wanda," Tim greeted, turning to face her.

"Hey," she returned, smiling up at him. "You're in 10C too, right?"

"Yeah," he replied. "So is Phoebe."

"Great," Wanda smiled. "Do you thing I could follow you around? My schedule sorta got scorched." She smiled in embarrassment and lifted the half charred paper.

"No problem," Tim replied, chuckling. "I can't get a hang of this projection thing either," he admitted. "I can't even begin to tell you how many times I fell asleep and woke up somewhere else. I've even done it while I was awake a few times."

"And D.A. still has no idea what's going on or how to reverse it?" Wanda wondered.

"Why are you asking me?" Tim questioned.

"Come on Tim, it's no secret that you're one of D.A.'s closest friends from our old gang," she said. "Second only to Phoebe, and it's a close second at that."

"You know what they say, birds of a feather flock together," Tim chuckled. "We're all the quiet type, I guess."

"Hey guys," Ralphie greeted, coming over and ruffling the very short Wanda's hair. She huffed and ran her fingers through it, trying to fix the damage Ralphie had done.

"Hey Ralphie," Tim said, smiling.

"You'll never guess who wound up in my class," Ralphie groaned.

"Keesha," Wanda replied blatantly. "We know, she mentioned it."

"Keesha's in my class?" Ralphie repeated, surprised. "I didn't know that. But no, that not who I meant. I'm stuck spending a year with Janet."

"Arnold's cousin?" Tim wondered. "I haven't seen her in a while."

"Arn swears she more decent than she was back when we knew her but I think he's just saying that because he feels obligated to stand up for her, being family and all," Ralphie scoffed.

"I dunno, people change," Tim said.

"People are like the seasons," Wands sighed. "Summer may change to autumn and to winter and to spring but in the end, summer always comes back."

"So pessimistic," Tim chided.

"I'm not being pessimistic, I'm being realistic," she rebuked.

"Wanda, you can shoot fire from your hands, what part of our lives is realistic?" Tim whispered, not wanting to be mistaken for a crazy person.

"Lighten up Tim," Ralphie chuckled, giving him a hearty smack on the back. "We're just regular teenagers. And speaking of regular teenagers, football tryouts are next week but I ran into the coach this morning and she says I'm a shoo-in for quarterback."

"You're not supposed to be playing football, remember," Tim said, sorry to be the one bursting his bubble.

"Yeah, whatever," Ralphie replied, dismissing the notion completely. "That was D.A.'s idea – one I'm not going for."

"Ralphie, you could seriously hurt someone," Tim argued.

"Relax," he urged. "I won't tackle, I'll just sorta elbow."

"Even then, you'll probably end up breaking a few bones," Tim persisted.

"Ralphie's right, Tim," Wanda sighed. "He's not an oaf, at least not when he's playing football. At other times sure, almost all the time to be honest. But football's an exception."

"Thank you Wanda, for taking my side," Ralphie said.

"Oh of course," she replied. "But when D.A. gets wind of this, no such thing happened, understood?"

"Gee, thanks," Ralphie said, exasperated. What was so scary about a little blonde, especially when you could char her with your bare hands, not that Wanda ever would?

The bell rang overhead, interrupting their semi-argument.

"Let's get to class," Tim said. "And really Ralphie, think about the consequences before you rush into this headfirst."

"Will do," Ralphie promised as he split away from the group to go to his class. Wanda followed Tim to their class as well and the doors shut on the empty high school hallways.

**XxX**

Phoebe walked into Walkerville National Park and sighed, smelling the fresh, open air. There was a running trail through the forest, had loved to use before the accident. She had gotten into running when she was thirteen, having put on a bit of weight and wanting to rid herself of it. But once the weight was gone, she didn't feel like quitting. There was something about a run, a surge of adrenaline, a rush of power, which exhilarated her. She would come to the park two or three time a week to run the trail. But she didn't need the trail anymore.

Sighing, she started up the trail and slipped into the uncharted forest. She stopped after she had gotten a few meters in, finding a patch of shrubs to conceal her. She removed her clothing, one piece at a time, casting several sidelong glances before removing her undergarments. Once naked, she crouched on all fours and felt body being to morph. Where most runners changed into running clothes, Phoebe found it more freeing to change into a wolf.

Stretching out her forelegs, she shook her muzzle from side to side, still weirded out by the fact that she _was_ a wild animal. Not to say that she'd never shape shifted before, but that had always required help from Ms. Frizzle and her magical bus. Plus, all those times she had been an animal she had never truly felt as though she were an animal herself. She had instead felt as though she had been walking – or swimming – around in awkward-fitting clothing that were either too big or too small, sometimes having an irritating feel or a wonky smell. But now, she felt completely as one with the animals she became.

She took one long smell of the air, engraving this area to memory so that she wouldn't misplace her clothing. While as a wolf, clothing didn't seem all that important to her, but she vaguely recalled them being an essential in human form.

Once she was sure of her location, she took off in a run, digging her claws deep into the Earth. She wasn't far before she smelled a familiar scent. She turned and began to run towards it.

"Phoebe, are you here?" Arnold called, stepping up the trail, looking around. His homeroom teacher, who aside from having a teaching license had a master's degree in geology, had asked him to stay for a while after school to talk about Granite, quite impressed that Arnold was a member.

On his way home, he had run into Dorothy Ann who had informed that she had seen Phoebe heading for the park. He had decided to surprise his girlfriend, maybe take her out for ice cream – sorbet for Phoebe – and sodas to celebrate the survival of their first day of high school.

"Pheebs?" he called again.

Phoebe strutted out of the clearing, waggling her tail contently. She was a gorgeous wolf; long, thick, auburn fur and bright, gleaming green eyes.

"Oh hey," Arnold greeted. "Man, I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing you like that."

Phoebe nodded her head in agreement.

"Were you going out for a run?" he asked. Again, she nodded.

"Well that's cool," he said. "I was just coming by to see if you wanted to grab a bite."

Phoebe pawed her way over to him and rubbed against his legs. She wanted to be with him.

"No, it's okay, I can wait," Arnold assured her. "How long will you be?"

Phoebe tapped the ground four times with her right leg, signaling 40 minutes.

"Okay, that's fine," he said, walking into the woods with her trailing behind him. He stepped into a small clearing and concentrated. The earth shook beneath them and a chair and table were sculpted.

"I have homework to do, so it's kinda good that you aren't ready yet," he explained. "Meet me here when you're done?"

She nodded and rubbed against his legs one last time before sprinting off into the woods. Arnold sat in his chair and took his homework from his bag, placing it on the table.

"Alright trig, here we go."


	3. Brothers

**Haha! Another chapter. I forgot to mention last chapter that Tim's leg is still in a cast, having broken it in the crash. That's was quite a vital piece of information I forgot there. TeeHee. Oh well, now you know. So anyway, here's that chapter I promised. Enjoy and REVIEW! **

**Chapter 3**

**Brothers **

"Hey, I'm home," Carlos called as he walked through the front door, into his porch. He took off his shoes and took a left into the living room. "Anyone here?"

"Hey Carlos," his younger brother of one year, Mikey, greeted, a smile on his face and a bowl of Doritos in his lap. He wheeled over to where his brother stood and lightly rammed him in the shins, teasingly.

"How was your first day of school?"

"It was alright," Carlos sighed, plopping down on the couch. "Where are Mom and Dad?"

"Groceries," Mikey replied, casting a somewhat dirty glance at Carlos. That guy could eat twice his body weight in one sitting but it was always Mikey who was told by his parents to go easy on the food. He figured it was because Carlos played a lot of soccer and could easily burn it off where as Mikey was confined to the chair. But if they thought pushing himself around instead of using an automatic chair wasn't a workout, boy were they wrong.

Mikey sighed and switched the volume back on the TV, grabbing another chip as he watched the opening of How It's Made.

"How was your day?" Carlos asked his brother. "Did you get out early or something?" Carlos didn't think Mikey was supposed to be home before him.

"You high school guys are subjected to an extra half-hour of school time, remember?" Mikey half-informed, half-teased.

"Oh yeah," Carlos groaned. "I miss middle school."

"You can have it back if you give me high school," Mikey offered.

"I dunno, maybe I just gotta get used to things there," Carlos sighed. Mikey nodded sympathetically and put the TV back on mute so he could turn to face his brother without distractions.

"Just promise me, whatever happens, you won't shut me out," Mikey said. "I hear Mom and Dad talk about it all the time – great kids who loose their way once they get to high school. Just talk to me if you ever need anything."

Carlos nodded solemnly and placed a hand on top of one of Mikey's. He looked up into his eyes and Mikey stiffened as he saw the mischievous, bemused glint that had settled there. He gulped. Obviously he had said something he shouldn't have.

"Do you realize that you're the third person today who's given me the _if you turn to drugs, turn to me_ talk," Carlos wondered, not at all amused. "Do I look like a stoner to you? Do I _look_ like a _stoner_ to you?"

"I didn't mean drugs exclusively, per se," Mikey babbled. "I… I know you're responsible, Carlos, so chill."

"Damn straight," Carlos exclaimed. "There's no way I'd get into that stuff. It's because I come from a Mexican family, isn't it? It's racial prejudice!"

"Isn't that better than people thinking you're a stoner cuz you act like one?" Mikey asked.

"Um, yeah, I guess," Carlos admitted, blushing at his outburst. "I guess I'm just stressed and worn out. You should give me the rest of your Doritos."

"No way, get your own, lazy ass," Mikey exclaimed.

Carlos locked eyes with Mikey, holding his gaze. "Give them to me," he ordered.

"Alight," Mikey agreed, passing Carlos the bowl, his expression somewhat blank.

"Geez Mikey, I was kidding," Carlos chuckled, trying to hand the bowl back but Mikey refused.

"No, I don't want them anymore," Mikey insisted. "They're yours."

"If you're sure," Carlos agreed, not about to turn down chips. "Any plans for the weekend?" he asked, suddenly changing the subject.

"I'm going over to Evan's to _study_," Mickey replied, putting _study_ between air quotes. Evan Hoover was Dorothy Ann's little sister. She was the same age as Mickey, also in his grade nine class. Carlos liked to tease that all Ramon boys were forced by some genetic code to fall for Hoover girls, but Mikey just laughed his brother's teasing off. As much as Carlos liked to joke, the secret meaning behind the word _study_ was not _make _out but rather _hang _out. They were nothing more than good friends.

"Dude, if you guys aren't seeing each other, why do you say _study_?" Carlos asked incredulously. "It's the first week of school, what kind of studying would you have to do anyway?"

"You seem to be forgetting a grade nine's workload," Mikey sighed. "No, but her parent's aren't crazy about Evan spending so much time with a boy. I could point out that it doesn't even work, but something tells me that would be giving too much information."

Carlos chuckled at his brother's antics. He was glad his brother could find the humor in a situation where most other teenage boys would swear their lives had no meaning. Besides, it's not like the doctors were one hundred percent sure it would _never_ work… with a bit of help.

"I don't get it," Carlos began. "Tim's over hanging out with D.A. all the time."

"Yeah, but Evan's a bit more… outgoing than her sister," Mikey explained, chuckling. "I mean, God, she's not that bad but I guess compared to Dorothy Ann, her parents are sorta in shock. Plus, they think Tim's gay."

"What," Carlos asked, incredulous. "Why didn't I know this?"

"Cuz Tim and D.A. don't know either," Mikey laughed. "Evan overheard them talking one night when she get up to get a drink. Fun fact, did you know that all male artists were gay?"

"Trust me, Tim's not gay," Carlos said once he finally stopped laughing and caught his breath. "The fact that he doesn't throw a fit every time someone asks him as much is all the proof you need. He's just into art."

"Hey, I didn't say _I_ thought he was, I was just stating a fact," Mikey replied, also laughing. "Do you have plans?"

"Nah, I'm just gonna hang out," Carlos sighed. "This is gonna be a long year." He reached down and grabbed another handful of Doritos, shoving them all in at once.

"God, Carlos, you're such a pig," Mikey whined. He chuckled, turning back to the TV and turning it off mute. His brother would be fine.


	4. Notions Of Football

**Here is yet another chapter. I really hope you guys enjoy and remember, I don't own the Magic School Bus, but any OCs I develop are mine and mine alone. Read and Review please, it means a lot. **

**Chapter 4**

**Notions of Football**

"Football?" D.A. screeched, pointing an accusatory finger in Ralphie's direction. She shook her head in dismay and made a very disappointed sounding _cluck_ with her tongue.

Ralphie bristled and chuckled uncomfortably. School had started four weeks ago and he'd been officially on the football team for almost two. He'd figured maybe D.A. just wouldn't notice, though maybe he could've helped his secret stay secret if he hadn't been hanging out with the jocks and the cheerleaders whenever he had time to spare. But, regardless, D.A. _had_ noticed. Her timing couldn't have been worse; they had a practice that afternoon – a Wednesday afternoon to be exact – and the homecoming game on Friday.

"D.A., relax," Ralphie said.

"Did you just tell me to relax?" she snapped. Ralphie shook his head _no_. That little blonde could be quite frightening, especially when she was your math tutor and therefore held your chances of passing in her hands.

"I thought that I made it abundantly clear that you are to go nowhere near anything that even remotely resembles a football field," she lectured.

"What's your damage?" a pesky brunette in her cheer uniform asked, coming up beside Ralphie along with three other football jocks and two blonde cheerleaders.

"Chantal." Ralphie said her name in a pleading matter, not sure however what he was pleading for. He didn't want the brunette to upset D.A., but by the same token he didn't want to expose Chantal the wrath of Hoover, an art that had been perfected over the years.

"You know what we talked about, Ralphie," D.A. continued stubbornly, barley noticing the new arrivals.

"Lay off, Blondie," Chantal scowled. Somehow she didn't catch the irony of using _Blondie_ as an insult, seeing as how her two cheerleading friends were blondes as well. Maybe it's because their blonde came out of a bottle.

"You know what my opinion is on this," D.A. added, looking at Ralphie pointedly.

"Take a chill pill," one of the football players that Ralphie had somehow befriended said. "Tennelli here'll still have plenty of time for those intimate little study sessions he humours you with, even with the girls and the powers taking up most of his time."

"These are the people you're risking so much to affiliate with?" D.A. asked, incredulous. She'd known Ralphie had changed over the years, but she hadn't realized he'd gotten _this_ shallow.

The same annoying football player who had spoken earlier catcalled and D.A. realized that she hadn't tried to deny his claim. She hadn't even fully registered it in the first place, seeing as it was incredibly stupid.

"Shut up Darren, it's not like that," Ralphie scoffed. "Listen, D.A. it's not up to you to run my life. I'll make my own damn decisions."

"And you don't care how your own _damn decisions_ might affect your friends?" D.A. rebuked, absolutely furious.

"Calling yourself a friend might be a bit of a stretch there, Hoover," Chantal chided. "Face it, this isn't junior high anymore, this is the real world. Ralphie isn't some huge nerd; therefore, the only reason he still even talks to you is because he's too soft to tell you like it is."

"And how might that be?" D.A. snapped.

"You mean nothing to him," Chantal answered, coldly. "You've outlived your usefulness. He doesn't need anything from you anymore, so you should save yourself the embarrassment and stop coming up to him, drooling like some lost puppy."

"What the hell is going on here?" Carlos asked as he came up beside D.A. "You're gonna let her talk to D.A. like that?" he said, directing his question to Ralphie who simply said nothing. "Not cool, man."

"Relax Ramon, no harm no foul," said one football player, a senior, with sandy blond hair. "Chantal's just telling her straight. We're football players and she's a bookworm, we don't need her hanging around cramping our style."

"What?" Carlos snapped, trapping the footballers eyes with his ice cold glare. "You don't _need_ D.A.? I seem to recall you saying a very different thing last year when D.A.'s tutoring was the reason you managed to pass your year."

The footballer blushed but didn't look away.

"Now apologize," Carlos ordered.

"I'm sorry, Dorothy Ann," he said, finally managing to move his eyes from Carlos's to look at the blonde.

"Come on, D.A., I'll buy you a soda," Carlos offered. Without waiting for an answer, he took the blonde by the elbow and led her past the group.

D.A. stopped suddenly and turned to face Ralphie before leaving him with a parting thought. "I just have this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that something isn't right with this picture. You feel so… unprotected. You need to be carful about protecting yourself Ralphie, or else something might happen that could change everything. Just promise me you'll be carful."

"Relax D.A., I always am," Ralphie said quickly as Carlos took hold of D.A. again to lead her to the cafeteria.

Once down in the cafeteria, Carlos bought two soda's from the vending machine; one root beer for himself and a cream soda for Dorothy Ann – it was her favourite. It was lunch hour, so they both grabbed a slice of pizza from the canteen. Carlos then led her out back to a section of the school's yard that seemed to always be deserted. They went there often when they wanted to hang out just the two of them with no distractions. Yet with all their alone time, Carlos had yet to tell her how he felt about her. God he could be such a sissy.

They sat down on the lawn across from one another. Carlos went to hand her her soda and she suddenly sat up straight as a ramrod, her eyes widening. She blinked hard and shook her head, hesitantly reaching out to take her pop.

"What's up D.A.?" Carlos asked, worried.

"Oh, nothing really," D.A. replied. "I've just been having the worst déjà vu of my life," she explained. "I could swear today already happened at some point, like I've already dreamed it. I never used to get déjà vu."

"It happens to even the most logical of people," Carlos assured her. "Besides, we always end up out here with sodas every other day. Therein lies your déjà vu. You really _have_ already seen this."

"I guess so," D.A. muttered.

Carlos sighed, seeing the D.A.'s disappointed expression. "What's really bothering you, D.A.?" he asked.

"I try to make it look like it doesn't get to me, but seeing Ralphie hang out with those popular jerks kinda feels like a slap in the face," she admitted.

Carlos waited quietly for her to continue.

"Here I am, trying so hard to find out what's going on with everyone and how does he repay me? He completely ignores everything I say is best, that's how! And it's not like I'm only upset for me. If he does something that brings his abilities to light, he's putting everyone else in a tight spot."

"Everyone other than us, you mean," Carlos said, and judging by D.A.'s expression, he'd found what was really bother her.

"I just feel worthless," she sighed. Carlos shifted to sit beside her and put an arm around her shoulder. She leaned into him, grateful for his comforting touch and familiar scent. "Everyone else Carlos, except us," she continued. "Don't take this the wrong way, but if it were just you, I could see it. But not me. I've always been so smart and special, everyone said it. My parents would have friends over and they'd talk about me and how perfect I was. So why am I not special enough now?"

"I don't know why you didn't get an ability like the others," Carlos replied. "But I know that it wasn't because you aren't special enough. Hell, you're probably so special that the universe would implode if it even tried to make you any more special then you already are."

"So I didn't get an ability due to a possible universe implosion?" she laughed. "Okay, I can live with that."

"Yeah, think of it this way, you have the power of universal implosion prevention," Carlos added, continuing the joke. From the way D.A. relaxed in his arms, he could tell he'd taken away the worst of her worries. But he didn't want to let go of her just yet, so instead of removing his arm like he probably should of, he brought his hand up to play with her hair. D.A. stiffened momentarily and Carlos was afraid he'd blown it until he felt her relax again and lean into him.

"I'm sorry about what I said, Carlos," she apologized.

"What's that now?" Carlos asked, having no idea what she'd be apologizing for.

"How I said that you didn't get an ability because you weren't special," D.A. elaborated, blushing lightly. "In truth, you're incredibly special, more so than may think. You have such a way with people. All you have to do is flash someone a smile and they automatically like you."

D.A. stopped and Carlos thought that she had finished but she suddenly spoke up. "I like you."

Carlos's heat stopped in his chest and then began to do double time. Damn, he whished she meant it more than as a friend.

"Well I like you too D.A. We are friends after all, aren't we," Carlos replied.

D.A. sighed. "Yeah, that's exactly what I meant."

**XxX**

"Tennelli, get out here. Coach says practise starts in five and anyone who's late'll have to do penalty laps," Darren called into the locker-room from out on the field.

"Coming," Ralphie called, grabbing his helmet. He dashed out onto the field to stand beside the rest of the team who were all eyeing Coach Ryder. Jessica Ryder wasn't the typical woman you'd expect to see as a boy's football coach. She was, for lack of a more sensitive description, a huge hottie. Like seriously, she was sexy personified. She was also married – to a man, which most boys figured meant they still had something of a chance – with a one-year-old daughter. She had thick, loosely curled copper hair, rich tanned skin and golden brown eyes. And more to the point of hot, she preferred yoga pants and jeans to those shapeless track pants.

"A bit slow today, are we Ralphie?" Coach Ryder asked. Ralphie blushed.

"Just making sure my gear's on right, Coach," he replied.

"You're not still shaken up about what Hoover said, are you?" Darren teased. The other player laughed and Coach Ryder gave them a pointed look. She didn't like being oblivious.

"Some little blonde said she had a _feeling_ Tennelli was in danger," Darren explained.

"Well there's not need to panic," Coach Ryder assured him. "Drills are so simple today you don't even have to wear your helmet. How's that for safe?"

"Good," Ralphie replied. "But I think I might wear the helmet anyway, if that's alright Coach."

"Hey, it's fine by me," she replied, smiling. "Alright boys, were gonna start out with five laps around the field."

"Yes Coach," the boys droned. They set off on their run. Ralphie, though he felt silly, put his helmet and mouth guard on.

"You look like a friggin' fruit," Darren called as they ran. "What are you so afraid of anyway. This is football dude, you're gonna get hurt at some point."

Ralphie just shrugged. He didn't know what he was afraid of. What was gonna happen on a run?

"Shit! Look out," someone called. Ralphie looked over just in time to see pretty much everything in the nearby supply closet spilling out and racing towards him. He was knocked off his feet by a series of basketballs and soccer balls. They took him off his feet, much in the same way they did to every other runner who didn't react fast enough. Ralphie soon found himself on the bottom of a dog pile consisting of humans and sports paraphernalia.

"Get him out from under there," Coach Ryder ordered. Ralphie found himself being pulled to his feet by his teammates.

"Damn Ralphie, you gave me a scare there," Coach sighed. "It's a good thing you had your helmet on or you could have seriously been hurt."

Ralphie was stunned. Really? He would've been hurt if he hadn't been wearing his helmet.

"You should listen to this Hoover girl more often, if she's always this intuitive," Coach Ryder said, voicing Ralphie's thoughts.

Dorothy Ann had been right.


	5. Homecoming

**I know, I'm on a roll with this guy. It's pretty awesome. Just so you know, I suck immensely at all comprehending all things sports related, so there is no description of the game for that very reason. **

**Chapter 5**

**Homecoming**

It was the first Friday in October and all of Walkerville High knew what that meant. Tonight the Walkerville Wildcats would play on home soil against their rivals the Riverton Ravens for their annual homecoming game. There would be the crowning of the homecoming king and queen too, but most importantly there would be the game. It was always about the game. There would be home colours decorating the stands and cheerleaders, of course there would be skimpy little cheerleaders making promises of what would be offered after the game should the Wildcats win. And every student would be attending. It wasn't even a question. Down to the very last nerd, everyone would be there. Because this wasn't just a game, this was the deciding factor of their entire year on the sports front. Whoever won this game would win every game all year in every sport imaginable. It was like a curse; the loser was to stay a loser with no chance of redemption. There was absolutely no way the Wildcats could loose.

"Are you going to the homecoming game tonight?" Phoebe asked Keesha as the final bell rang, dismissing the students. Several teachers watched them leave. Phoebe though they almost looked smug, as if to rub in the fact that the next time the students would come back to the school, it would be done of their own accord.

"Of course," Keesha replied. "It's Ralphie's big game."

"Well, I'm not going for Ralphie's sake," Phoebe snapped. Keesha almost had to laugh. Phoebe was quite bad at staying angry at people, but it seemed she was actually trying this time. That's not to say Keesha wasn't also slightly peeved that Ralphie had let his new _friends_ be so mean to D.A., but she wasn't quite as miffed as Phoebe seemed to be.

"You know he's just trying to find where he fits in," Keesha argued for her crush's sake. "He'll come around."

"Geez Keesh, you could make it sound like you're at least a little put off," Phoebe grumbled.

"Oh, I'm in no way condoning his actions," Keesha said. "They just weren't actions that surprised me in the first placed. Ralphie's one of those people who needs to blend in."

"At his friends' expense," Phoebe added. She had no doubt in her mind that Ralphie was doing exactly as Keesha said he was, but that didn't make things better.

"Just let him be and he'll come around," Keesha sighed. Her best friend didn't get like this often, but when she did, she was hard to placate.

"He'll come around when he needs us, you mean."

"Yes," Keesha replied honestly. "And if you really still want to be friends with him as much as you make it sound, then you'll wait. And you won't say I told you so when his fake friends let him down. You'll just be there to help him. That's what us _true_ friends do."

"I hate it when you get all wise like this," Phoebe grumbled.

**XxX**

"Evan, the boys are here, hurry up," Dorothy Ann called to her sister who was still in her room getting ready. Carlos and Mikey were outside the door, picking them up so they could all walk together to the game. The Hoovers lived in a subdivision that was about a seven minute walk away from the high school and the Ramons lived about two minutes away from them, so Carlos and D.A. would often walk to school together. Evan and Mikey would make their way to school together too, the middle school being even closer, only five minutes away.

"Alright, I'm ready," Evan called, coming out of her room in an outfit that would make the Pope blush.

D.A. hung her head and sighed in dismay. "Evan."

"What?" Evan quipped. "You know my policy. The older the guys the shorter the skirts."

"I'd hate to see what you'd wear to an old-folks home," Carlos joked.

"Carlos, don't encourage her," D.A. snapped. "You realize that when Mom and Dad get wind of how skimpily you're dressed, you'll be grounded into next year."

"No biggie," Evan said, shrugging, completely brushing off her sister's concerns. "Besides, you're wearing a skirt too, Sis," she teased. "Anyone in particular you wanna give open, obstacle free access to your sweet spot?"

"That is none of your business," D.A. shrieked, blushing immensely. Unlike her _younger_ sister, she had no desire to discuss anything remotely sex-like with boys in the area. Sex Ed class was bad enough but friends – and crushes – were definitely off limits.

"Oh, and she doesn't try to deny it," Evan howled, teasing further.

"Leave your sister alone," Mikey sighed. He'd gotten used to Evan's antics seeing as how they reminded of a more hormone-charged version of his brother's. Besides, as much as Evan like to tease, that's all she ever did. Mikey and Evan talk more about personal – aka sex life – stuff than most girl/boy friends would. Mikey knew everything about her, down to the fact that the farthest she'd ever gotten was making out, once, and it had sucked.

"And you never tease your brother?" Evan asked, scowling that Mikey was ruining her fun.

"Come on guys, we're gonna miss the pregame show if we don't get a move on," Carlos whined.

"You're worried about missing the _cheerleaders_?" D.A. snapped. Why was it that after a certain age, all sweet and decent boys turn into hormone driven lechers?

"Think of it this way, D.A., if we get there while everyone's focused on the cheerleaders' skirts, we can probably sneak Evan in with minimal problems," Carlos explained.

"When you put it like that… come on people, let's go!"

**XxX**

"Hey Ralphie," Wanda greeted. "Nervous?"

"W-Wanda," Ralphie sputtered. "This is the boy's locker-room."

"So?" Wanda wondered, shrugging and coming to stand beside Ralphie. "I have a little brother, nothing I haven't seen before."

"Hello there Cutie," one footballer drawled, coming up to Wanda and leaning towards her. "Couldn't wait 'till after the game to get a bit of action?"

Wanda scoffed and flicked him in the nose. "Down boy."

The football player, stunned, walked away, shaking his head.

"And people actually have the gall to ask how I could possibly be attracted to women," Wanda muttered. "Swear to God, if I were straight, I'd've jumped by now."

"Is there anything in particular you want Wanda?" Ralphie wondered. "Or are you just here to shatter every guy's bi girl dream?"

"No, I have a point to this visit," Wanda explained. "Of all the guys in this school, I can actually tolerate you."

"Thank you?" Ralphie said, confused.

"No, I wasn't done," Wanda snapped. "I can tolerate you. We talk about sports and girls. We watch action movies that are primarily composed of explosions while drinking hearty amounts of Guinness, a drink that all my other friends gag at. So don't ruin this for me. Because every time you do something unbelievably oafish like blow off D.A. and let her get ripped into, for instance, you become so much less tolerable. Am I making my point clear?"

"Yes, Wanda, sorry," Ralphie mumbled. He was quite embarrassed at being given a lecture by a _girl _in from of all his guy friends. But by the same token, Wanda was no ordinary girl. She had a distinctive spunk about that made her quite awesome and respectable.

"Now, get ready for the game, Doofus," Wanda sighed. She stepped up on her tiptoes and ruffled Ralphie's hair, much in the same way he would do to her before planting a quick kiss on his cheek and heading for the door.

"Oh, and don't fumble," she called before walking out.

**XxX**

"D.A., Carlos, over here," Phoebe called from where she was sitting with the rest of the gang on the bottom row of bleachers. Carlos couldn't help but smile somewhat, seeing where his friends had chosen to sit. He couldn't be sure, but if he had to guess, Phoebe had said something about Mikey coming and suggest they sit somewhere were Mikey could sit with them. Phoebe was always the one to be thinking of others before herself.

"Hey guys," Carlos greeted when he arrived with the group. The cheerleaders were, as Carlos had predicted, mid-routine and holding most of everyone's attention.

"Hey, Wanda, how do I look?" Evan asked, twirling.

"Like a very hot slut," Wanda replied. It was something of a ritual between Evan and Wanda to have Evan ask Wanda how she looked. According to Evan it was more of a truthful analysis than would be given by a straight girl, but not as unsettling as an opinion given by a guy.

"Like seriously," Wanda continued. "If you were into chicks and had like, ten minutes..."

"Wanda," D.A. grumbled.

"I said _if_," Wanda rebuked.

"Good, just the effect I was going for," Evan said, smiling, self-satisfied, before sitting in Mikey's lap.

"Evan, for God's sake, sit on the bleachers," D.A. chastised.

"There isn't room," Evan replied, being purely objective. And it's true, there wasn't. "Besides, he's paralyzed, it's not like I'm hurting him."

"Ah Evan, ever the sensitive one," Mikey sighed. He was used to Evan sitting in his lap by now. Ever since the day, four years ago, Evan had sprained her ankle and Mikey offered to carry her home, she had had him carry her home more and more often. And she was right, he couldn't feel her.

"It's part of my charm," Evan giggled.

And that moment, the announcer's voice came over the loudspeaker, signalling that the game was to begin.

"We're going to win, 26 to 18," D.A. said suddenly, surprising everyone.

"Is that some logical deduction factoring in wind speeds and the rivalling players stats?" Arnold asked. D.A. sounded so sure of herself.

"No, I had a dream about it," she replied.

And the game played out just as D.A. had predicted. She had a knack for being right.

The gang went over to try to congratulate Ralphie, but he was buys shoving his tongue down Chantal the cheerleader's throat.

"Seriously loosing tolerability points," Wanda sighed, stalking off.

"You figure all football players are in a celebrate-by-making-out mood?" Evan asked, standing on her tiptoes, looking for a hunky footballer to snag.

"No, you're going home," Mikey sighed, grabbing Evan by her waist and pulling her down in his lap so he could roll her away.

"But, Mikey, football players! Hotness! Don't take me away," she whined as he chuckled lightly and kept on going. Evan liked to put on her shows.

"You still think he needs us Keesh, because he sure looks to be getting along fine on his own," Phoebe grumbled, taking Arnold's hand and turning her back on her old friend.

"He'll come around," Keesha protested to nobody in particular. She looked at her long-time crush and first love for a long moment, watching him as he grabbed Chantal by the hand and tugged her off to the parking lot. Keesha had no delusions of what they may or may not be doing. She knew. Sighing, she swallowed her tears as she dejectedly walked home.

"Or maybe he won't," she realized, deciding that maybe it really was best to give up on Ralphie Tennelli before he let her down any more.


	6. A Model To Sketch

**I've changed the rating to M but let me make one thing abundantly clear. THERE IS NOT NOW NOR WILL THERE EVER BE A LEMON! I'm simply looking at this work in context. Considering this show was made for a bunch of preschoolers, the content found within this story is in fact mature. Things to be expected are violence, coarse language, nudity and other citrusy material. Reader discretion is advised. Now that that's out of the way, I give you chapter six. Please review. **

** Chapter 6 **

**A Model To Sketch **

On November 7th a hospital in Ohio identified a Jane Doe who had been in a coma for over three months as one Valerie Felicity Frizzle. No one could understand how a grade school teacher from Walkerville, Michigan ended up unconscious in Ohio, especially when they auto accident they assumed had left her comatose took place in Wisconsin. All the other parties had been accounted for. All were students from Ms. Frizzle old third grade class. What they had been doing together on a trip to Wisconsin was also a mystery.

Arrangements were made to transport Ms. Frizzle to a hospital near her hometown of Walkerville. She had no family, not that anyone could find, and few friends. In the end, Mr. Ruhle, her employer, had been given final jurisdiction over all decisions made while she was in her comatose state.

That had been exactly two weeks ago and Valerie Frizzle had shown no signs of pulling out.

The Hoover family made an impromptu decision to spend the weekend in the city and head in to see Ms. Frizzle while they were there. Evan however had other plans. After much deliberation, Mr. and Mrs. Hoover had decided to let Evan stay home alone on the weekend with the condition that Mikey was not to go over. Evan had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Parents could be so dumb sometimes. She and Mikey were definitely nothing more than the world's best set of friends. But she agreed nonetheless, reveling in the fact that, for once, her parents trusted her.

D.A. had left her with a long list of things she was supposed to do, but Evan only pretended to be listening. Her sister didn't do impromptu well. She was such a control freak, always trying to foresee every possible outcome of every decision ever made so that things would go her way. Evan would sooner die than be anything like her. Evan liked impromptu. She figured it was her sister's controlling nature that was keeping her and Carlos apart. Evan and Mikey both agreed they were totally into one another. But what could they do, really?

It was Saturday morning and Evan had just woken up and made herself a grilled cheese. She was finishing off her glass of milk when there was a knock on the door. Intrigued, she put her dishes in the sink and went to answer. She figured it was one of those annoying door-to-door salesmen she'd sworn had gone extinct like, twenty years ago. What she hadn't been expecting was to see Tim Jamal standing on her doorstep with a backpack and a sketchpad.

"Can I help you?" Evan asked, probably in a more snarky tone than she would have liked to use. Tim was a really great guy. Even though he was one of her sister's friends, he was always really patient with her. Most of D.A.'s other friends would treat Evan like a nuisance, like she was getting in the way of whatever it was they were doing but Tim would always try to include her and make her feel special.

"Um, hello Evan, is D.A. around?" Tim asked, nervously. It was then Evan realized that she was dressed in little more than an oversized t-shirt and a pair of underwear. Oops, she probably should have thrown something on before opening the door. Her perpetual state of undress seemed to bother Tim more than it did any of D.A.'s other friends. Maybe it was because all D.A.'s other friends were girls and Carlos, who was like a brother.

"Um, no, did you want something?" Evan asked.

"Oh, she must have forgotten," Tim muttered. "I was supposed to come over and sketch her for a contest."

"Oh yeah, I was supposed to call you and tell that she couldn't do that," Evan realized, blushing. Way to look like a ditz in front of Tim. "The rest of the fam went into the city to do some shopping and see Ms. Frizzle and stuff for the weekend."

"Oh, well, that's okay," Tim sighed.

"I'm sure D.A. can do it next weekend though," she added, not liking the fact that Tim looked so crushed.

"I have to have it in by Wednesday," Tim explained. "But it's fine. Wanda said she'd do it if no one else would."

"I feel bad though, you came all the way out here," Evan said. Tim lived on the other side of town, a ten minute walk away. And worse than that, Wanda was like, his next door neighbor so he'd have to go all the way back.

"It's alright," Tim assured her. "It's really nice out; the walk did me some good."

"You could always sketch me," Evan offered. "I have no real plans so it wouldn't be a problem."

"Um, actually Evan," Tim said, clearing his throat and blushing. "It' supposed to be a nude sketch, so…"

"That's alright, I don't mind," Evan said, opening the door further and ushering Tim inside. He followed Evan awkwardly into the kitchen after having slipped off his shoes.

"How's your leg? The walk over didn't hurt too much did it?" she wondered. Tim's cast had come off less than a week ago.

"No, it's fine," he replied. "Feels weird to be walking on it again though."

"I can imagine," Evan said. "Can I get you anything to eat or drink?"

"Um, maybe a glass of water would be nice," Tim said, taking a seat at a barstool at the kitchen island.

"Sure. And a few chocolate covered cashews?"

"If you want," Tim muttered. Evan poured two glasses of water and sat beside Tim at the island, placing a bowl the bowl of cashews between them.

"So what about the sketch?" Evan asked. "Is it part of a theme or is it just supposed to be a nude?"

"Um, well actually, the nudity bit is optional," Tim admitted. "We're supposed to showcase innocence."

"Okay, now I understand why you wanted my sister," Evan chuckled.

"Evan, I don't think of your sister that way," Tim said quickly.

"Oh, I know. I was talking about the innocent part," Evan explained.

"And I'm not gay either, incase that's the reason you don't mind," Tim added.

"I know," Evan said again. "I'm doing this because it means a lot to you, Tim. What's the prize? More than cash I'd assume or else you wouldn't have bothered to ask my sister to pose in her birthday suit."

"On top of seven hundred and fifty dollars, the winner has their work displayed in several well known art galleries, including one in Europe," Tim replied.

"Well than I'm definitely in," Evan said. "Think of how good the exposure would be for you. You're an amazing artist Tim and I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Thank you, Evan."

"The pleasure's all mine. Now, what were you thinking?" she asked, opening the backpack he'd placed on the floor and examining his collection of oil paints.

"Well, I wanted to bring to life the idea of the inner child, how everyone has a side of themselves that's innocent and vulnerable. Your sister mentioned to me that she had an old porcelain doll, one with really big eyes."

"Yeah, it's something our grandmother used to have when she was a girl," Evan explained, knowing what doll Tim was talking about. The bloody thing used to give her nightmares when she was a kid. "It's face is kinda cracking, just 'cuz it's old, you know."

"No that's exactly the way I want it," Tim said. "I'd like to have you with your hair in pigtails, playing with the doll as though you were a little kid."

"I can do that," Evan said, smiling. Tim had brilliant ideas sometimes. "Did you want me to be standing up, or sitting down or what?"

"I was thinking you could be sitting cross legged with the doll between your legs, if that's okay with you," Tim explained.

"That's fine," Evan agreed. "We can do it in my room if you want. There are too many windows anywhere else. I'll just run into D.A.'s room and get the doll. You know where my room is, right?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"Good, than wait for me there," Evan ordered, heading in one direction to D.A.'s room while Tim went the other to Evan's.

"Hold yourself together Tim," Tim muttered to himself as he entered Evan's room and sat down at her desk chair. "She's D.A.'s little sister. It's one thing to find her cute but getting turned on by her is a whole other matter. D.A. will kill you if you look even one second longer than necessary. Be objective about this. This is not a naked woman you've secretly had a thing for for the last couple of years, this is art."

By the time Evan entered her room, Tim had managed to calm himself reasonably. She had changed into a silk robe with presumably nothing underneath and had put her hair in pigtails like Tim had suggested. Under her right arm she carried the brown-haired green-eyed doll. In her left hand were two jars of water and in the other hand, a roll of paper towel.

"I brought you some stuff I figure you could use to tidy your brushes and stuff," she said, placing the water and paper towel on the desk next to him.

"Thanks," he replied, smiling in what he hoped wasn't an awkward fashion.

"Did you want me to sit on the floor or on my bed?" She asked. Tim was glad she could think straight and objectively, because he sure couldn't.

"Are your sheets white?" Tim asked, finally finding his brain.

"Yeah. Do you want me on my bed than?" Evan wondered, her eyes bright and innocent. The duel meaning of that sentence did not help Tim's composure.

"Bed's fine," he sputtered, trying to regulate his breathing. _D.A.'s sister… D.A.'s sister… D.A.'s sister…_

Evan bent over to take the blankets and her robe rode up, revealing almost all of her long, pale legs. Suddenly his inner chanting wasn't strong enough. _D.A.'s younger sister… D.A's younger sister… D.A.'s younger sister…_

"Well, I guess we can get started then," Evan sighed, clambering into the centre of her double bed, sitting cross legged as Tim had instructed earlier. She then took a deep breath and shed her robe, throwing it to the floor, and Tim found his inner chant starting to work against him. _D.A.'s younger sister… D.A.'s younger sister… D.A.'s younger sister who is unbelievably attractive, naked and spread out on her bed for you… D.A.'s… younger… oh God, the battle is being lost. I can't seem to think of her as D.A.'s sister at all. It's the way her curves are so much more pronounced, the way her cheekbones are higher and more defined, the way her hair is several inches longer and has a touch more gold, the way her breasts are larger and… train of thought being derailed once again. D.A.'s voluptuous, tantalizing sister teasing him with her wide, blue eyes… _

Evan shifted suddenly and Tim found himself able to think again. This was business, damn it! He'd loose it later, on his own time. It's not like the image was going anywhere. He had to be objective; his future depended on him winning that contest. His hormones were _not_ going to ruin it for him.

"Is this good?" she asked, wanting his input on her pose.

"Bring your left knee up a little higher," he instructed.

"Like this?" Evan wondered, shifting her knee slightly, but not entirely the way Tim wanted.

"More like this," Tim said, getting out from his seat and readjusting Evan's knee himself. Tim had no trouble looking at her anymore without his mind wandering. He was even able to touch her. He had found his cool, whereas Evan was just starting to loose hers.

Evan's breath hitched. Tim's hand felt like fire against her skin. She found herself needing to repress a shiver. _Stop it Evan, get a grip_. _Tim's D.A.'s best friend. He doesn't think about you like that. Keep fantasizing like this you're gonna get yourself soaked. That wouldn't be awkward at all. Just be normal, please. He really doesn't think of you that way. _

After five hours of sketching and painting, talking and laughing, Tim finally finished. Evan got to her feet and picked up her discarded robe. Tim watched in awe as the muscles across her back and shoulders rippled as she put it on. Who knew that muscles on a woman could be so becoming?

She wandered over her dresser and took out a pair of black lace panties, slipping them on, before walking languidly over to stand beside Tim.

"Can I see?" she asked as she took her hair out of her pigtails.

"Sure," Tim replied, tuning his finished piece in Evan's direction. She gasped and put one hand on Tim's shoulder.

"Wow, Tim this is incredible," she marveled. If she didn't know better, she'd have sworn she was looking at a photograph.

"You think it's good enough to be awarded first place?" he asked.

"I thinks it's better," she said, her voice soft and earnest.

"It's getting late," Tim sighed. "I should be getting home for supper."

"Why don't you stay?" Evan requested. "I don't really feel like eating alone."

"That would be nice," Tim agreed, smiling, making Evan's stomach flip-flop.

"You wanna help cook?" she asked.

He smiled warmly at her and stood. "Just let me put my stuff away." 


	7. Scientific Versus Spiritual

**Here we are, one more chapter. I hope you know, I've been doing a small amount of jock/cheerleader bashing but let it be known that I have no quarrel with jocks or cheerleaders. I have a lot of cheerleading friends and they're all great people. For the sake of literature, I am simply playing with some well known, very false stereotypes. Don't take offense. Enjoy, read, and most importantly, review. Yeah, you… I know you're reading…I can see you… **

**Chapter 7**

**Scientific Versus Spiritual **

"You know, we don't talk about it enough," Arnold sighed, running his fingers through Phoebe's hair. It was a Friday and Phoebe and Arnold had taken their lunches outside to Carlos and D.A.'s usual spot.

"What's there to talk about?" Phoebe asked, evasively.

"I know it's a touchy subject Sweetheart but it does no good to just keep it bottle up," Arnold said, holding Phoebe tighter. "It's not like you can talk to anyone else about this without them thinking you're crazy."

"I feel guilty," she admitted at last, feeling the familiar sting of tears welling behind her eyes. "We're the ones who asked her to take us on that damned trip. If we would have left well enough alone, none of this would have happened."

"We couldn't have known," Arnold assured her, rubbing circles on her back. "This is in no way your fault, so don't think that way even for a second."

November was nearing an end, the wind taking on a bitter, cold side. The hospital had run all sorts of tests, but couldn't seem to rouse Ms. Frizzle from her coma. They had deduced that her comatose state was due to slight head trauma and large amounts of an unknown radioactive compound, but they didn't know how to treat her. It was up to Ms. Frizzle to pull out on her own and she was showing no signs of that ever happening.

"You can't tell me you don't feel guilty sometimes too," Phoebe muttered.

"No you're right," Arnold began. "If I said I never felt bad, felt responsible, then I'd be lying. But what we all have to remember is that Ms. Frizzle is the adult, ergo she is the one to blame for everything that happened to us and to herself. It was up to her to take us, to keep us safe. If she knew there could have been problems she was being irresponsible and if she just didn't know because she didn't think to check first, I believe I'd describe that as irresponsibility as well. And if it was a freak event, something that no body could have predicted, than call me crazy, but I'd say that's divine intervention, wouldn't you?"

"You always know what to say," Phoebe sighed happily.

"You've just gotta have a bit of faith," he explained. "Everything happens for a reason, remember? You taught me that. And if I didn't stay home that day… well, I'd like to think that it's because I was meant to have these powers, to do something good with them."

Phoebe chuckled somewhat, biting her lip to hold in her laughter but failing to do so, bursting out in a hearty fit of giggled.

"What's so funny?" Arnold scowled. "I'm trying to be deep and here you are laughing at me!"

"I'm sorry, Baby," Phoebe apologized. "I'm just picturing you in tights and a cape."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you," Arnold whispered seductively in his girlfriend's ear. Leastways, as seductively as he could with her still a laughing mess.

"Don't make me laugh any more than I already am," she pleaded. "Oh God, it hurts."

"Alright, alright. I didn't realize I was this much of a joke to you," he said, feigning offense.

"Never," Phoebe said, leaning over and kissing him reassuringly.

"We should probably head in," Arnold sighed. "Carlos is quite adamant about our Friday lunch get-togethers."

"It's strange, when you think about it," Phoebe mused. "We all pretty much have our own lives now, with our own friends, but when Carlos asked us to get together like this, no body argued."

"Actually, what I believe he did was order more so than ask," Arnold chuckled.

"Yeah, he's been getting his way a lot lately," she whispered.

"What are you thinking, Phoebe?"

"What if Carlos did get an ability, except none of us noticed because it didn't manifest itself physically," Phoebe pondered.

Arnold mussed over the possibility before nodding in agreement. "D.A.'s been saying that she's been having feelings about the future. What if they both did? What would you say Carlos's ability is?" he asked.

"I don't know, some form of compulsion, maybe," she guessed. "Mind control."

"It's worth mentioning," he agreed. "But for now, we have to focus less on the _when we get there _and more on the _getting there in the first place_. I'm so lazy."

"Come on, you can sleep on the weekend," she giggled, getting to her feet. She offered her hand and when Arnold took it, she hauled him to his feet. He snaked his arms around her waist and smiled at her, noting how adorable she was with her cheeks all rosy from the chill in the air.

"I love you," he sighed.

"I love you too," she replied, kissing him once more before taking his hand and leading him inside.

**XxX**

All was quiet in the cafeteria. Eerily quiet, considering it was a Friday. Tim, Wanda, Dorothy Ann, Carlos, Arnold, Phoebe and Keesha were all waiting at a table for Ralphie who, for some unknown reason that was only serving to shorten Carlos's metaphorical fuse, was late. Before the gang could begin to look for him however, they heard him coming. Really heard him coming.

"This discussion is not over," he bellowed, causing all occupants of the cafeteria to, if it was possible, become even quieter.

Chantal scurried into the cafeteria, eyes streaked with tears, in her cheer uniform, her brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Ralphie followed closely on her heels, completely enraged

"I'd rather say it is," she rebuked.

"And who the hell says it's your decision?" he hollered.

"It's none of your damn business," she screeched.

"None of my business my ass," Ralphie screamed, his voice bouncing off the walls. What the hell were they arguing about?"

"It's my body," he snarled.

"And it's my kid!"

They both fell silent then, as one big communal gasp was heard, and suddenly realized where they were.

"I don't care if it's a boy or a girl, if it has an extra limb or no limbs at all. That's my kid and I'll be damned if you think I'm going to let you have it removed like some malignant tumor," Ralphie growled, not quite as loud as before but still completely audible, his rage fueling his vocal chords. "You want me to pay all your bills? Because I'll get a job. But I won't let you do this."

There was an eerie silence and while Ralphie shook with anger, Chantal simply looked defeated.

"We should be talking about this somewhere more private," she said at last.

"I've got time now," Ralphie spat, storming away to have Chantal follow in this time.

Then the whispers started.

How typically small town? The quarterback just knocked up the head cheerleader.

**XxX**

Dorothy Ann found Ralphie in the scarcely visited west wing under the staircase at the end of the school day. There was a gaping hole in the cement wall, one D.A. could only imagine Ralphie had put there.

"I did in fact warn you about protecting yourself around those people, did I not?" D.A. asked. Ralphie noticed her then and looked down at the ground.

"I thought you meant in football," he grumbled. "After that incident with the supply closet I figured I was in the clear."

"And now you've caused a whole new set of problems for us," D.A. accused. "Typical jock, think with your pants."

"How is this your problem?" Ralphie asked. "If you're worried about your image –"

"I'm worried about a bit more than my image," D.A. snapped. "We don't know what's wrong with us, Ralphie. What if these changes that happened to us happened on a molecular level, rewriting our DNA, our entire genetic code? Think of all the mutations the child could have."

"Did you not here my extra or no limb speech, 'cuz that wasn't just for show," Ralphie said.

"Ralphie, this isn't just about the child, there's more than that at stake," she argued. "Any number of mutations could lead to the creation of deadly viruses and diseases. Not to mention the long term effects that we may not see for another few generations. And through all this, you're putting the mother in a great amount of danger too. What if the fetus is strong like you? It could potentially kill her with one well placed kick."

"Are you saying this because it's a scientifically deduction?" Ralphie asked, a spark of anger in his eyes.

"Yes, as scientifically as one can deduce when dealing with the unknown, that is my hypothesis," she replied.

"And as a psychic?" he queried.

"What?" she wondered, incredulous.

"You said it yourself, D.A. you can predict the future. Let's be real. You warned me about being careful, Carlos says you've been complaining of déjà vu, and Wanda told me about what you said at the homecoming game, so what conclusion do you _deduce_?" he quipped, the last word ringing with spite. "Do you see an unhealthy, dangerous _thing_ or do you see a beautiful little baby, full of life and wonder who can be anything they want to be – _anyone_ they want to be? What do you see D.A.?"

D.A. simply hung her head, shamefacedly. Ralphie was right. She didn't sense any danger, not one iota.

"You shouldn't always live relying on science," he said. "Sometimes it's worth trusting your instincts."

"I'll leave you alone," she muttered.

"For what it's worth though when this kid is born, gets a little older, I'd really love it if their Aunt D.A. would teach them everything she knows about science and such. I can only hope this kid'll be a fraction of how smart you are."

"Thank you, Ralphie."

"I'm sorry I've been treating you like crap lately," he whispered and D.A. felt tears welling in her eyes. "I was just a bit lost. I hope you can forgive me, and I hope that you'll take me up on my offer to be this kid's aunt."

"Are you kidding, I'm gonna spoil the crap outta them," D.A. giggled before going over and hugging her old friend.

"Thank you so much, D.A."

"That's what friends are for."


	8. Telling Mother

**Hello there *hides face in shame*. I know, I haven't updated in forever. I'm sorry. I was at camp and then I was decompressing from camp. But now things are back to normal and I'll try to have my updates be a bit more regular – **_**try**_** being the operative word. Now, in other news, I'd like some reviews people. Don't feel like it? Here's a little incentive. I cannot for the life of me come up with a name for Ralphie's kid. Therefore, if you leave a possible name in a review, I might just pick it. Male, Female, Unisex, come one come all. Leave several suggestions if you want. Just please, give me something. And here, without further ado, is the next chapter. **

**Chapter 8**

**Telling Mother**

"Mom," Ralphie called as he walked through the front door, throwing his backpack on a stool nearby.

"I'm in the kitchen," Ms. Tennelli replied. Ralphie quickly removed his shoes and went to join her. She was busying herself kneading dough for the calzones she had promised him.

"Hey Mom, look, can we talk?" he asked, coming to stand beside her.

"Sure thing, kiddo," she said, still working the dough.

"No, I mean like, really talk," he stressed. Ms. Tennelli, seeing her son's distressed demeanor, set the dough aside to rise and gave him her full attention.

"What's up?"

"Well, I guess I'll start by saying that I', quitting the football team," he began.

"What?" his mother asked, perplexed. "Ralphie, you love football, and besides, the season's almost over. Why would you quit now?"

"I'm getting a job," he explained. "That's why I'm home so late today. I went to see Mr. Elm about working the cash at his shop. He's getting old and now that his daughter's off to university, he said he's more than happy to have me. The pay's really good; more than minimum wage by a generous amount."

"They pay?" Ms. Tennelli repeated. "Since when have you cared so much about money? I thought I raised you to follow your dreams, not to run blindly after a bit of extra cash. Is this some retaliation for not getting a car for your birthday because if it is –"

"It's not, Mom," Ralphie interrupted. "I know why you didn't get me a car. Money's tight, I know it is and you're just trying to provide me with everything I need to stay healthy," he assured her. "And now it's my turn to step up and do some providing of my own. You set a great example of how to be a single parent Mom, and I can only hope I can be as good at this as you are."

Ms. Tennelli fell silent, her son's words hitting her hard, making her hope to God she was misunderstanding something. Seeing the tears well up in his eyes told her she wasn't.

"I'm really sorry, Mom," Ralphie whispered, trying futilely to hold back his tears. "You did so much to give me a future and I messed it up so bad. I'm _so_ sorry."

"I didn't realize you were seeing someone," Ms. Tennelli said, that being the only thing she could get to come out of her mouth.

"I'm not. I wasn't. It was kinda just a thing," Ralphie blubbered. "At homecoming. It was the first time I… the only time. You've got to believe me Mom. It was just once."

"I believe you," she sighed, straightening out her apron. She took a deep breath before continuing, This girl, what's her name?"

"Chantal Davenport," Ralphie mumbled.

"And what does Chantal have to say about all this? Has she spoken with her family?" she asked.

"Not yet," Ralphie sighed. "She…she doesn't want to keep it."

"You mean she wants to give it up for adoption?" Ms. Tennelli asked.

"No," Ralphie said, flatly. There was an awkward moment of silence before Ralphie spoke again. "But I can't let her do that Mom. I promised her that I'd pay all her medical bills and take full custody once the baby's born and I mean it. If it means I drop out of school and work cash my whole life, I will. That's my kid. It may only be the size of a sesame seed but it's already my whole world."

When Ralphie chanced a glance up at his mother, he saw that she was silently crying. He hung his head and let his own tears fall, he sobs shaking his solid frame.

"I'm so sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to be such a disappointment," he bawled.

Ms. Tennelli shook her head and rushed over to hug her son tightly.

"I'm not disappointed in you," she said. "Don't think that for a second. I'm proud. So proud. This situation isn't ideal and I wish that it would have been avoided – that you would have been more careful. No child should have to worry about having a child of their own. But what's done is done. I'm just so proud of how you're handling this. Not many boys your age would do what you're doing – taking responsibility. I'm proud to call you my son.

"Thank you, Mom," Ralphie cried, hugging his mother hard. "So much."

"That's what parents are for," she sighed. "Just promise me that you'll finish school, okay? I'll do what I can to help."

"I promise," Ralphie said, pulling out of his mother's arms and wiping his eyes.

"Do many other people know?" his mother asked curiously.

"Well, seeing as how we were arguing in the cafeteria, I'd have to say that yes, many people do in fact know."

"I suppose they were going to find out eventually," Ms. Tennelli sighed. "Now, why don't you get washed up? If you want half-decent calzones, I need to get back to the dough."

Ralphie nodded and headed to the doorframe. He stopped suddenly and turned.

"Thank you again, Mom. For everything."

"You'll see what it's like to be a parent soon enough. You just want what's best for your kids. You want them happy."

"I am happy. You raised me right," Ralphie assured her. And she had. Being a single mom was hard work and the fact that Ms. Tennelli was a doctor on top of it all was astounding. She had always been there for Ralphie and he loved her more than he could put into words.

"And now it's your turn."


	9. The Gift

**Sorry, I know, I haven't updated in like, forever. Sorry 'bout that. Here is chapter nine and maybe chapter ten will be out soon, seeing as how school is approaching fast and I want to have this done by then. I won't, but I want to. So, read and review and LEAVE BABY NAMES. Seriously, I think I know what I want now, but I still want to hear from the reader. **

**Chapter 9**

**The Gift**

Evan liked nights like this. There were only five days before Christmas and winter break had officially begun. Pretty much everything screamed awesome. But what Evan liked best about this kind of night was the absence of family in the house. Her parents were spending two nights in the city for a romantic getaway of sorts and Dorothy Ann went out to eat with Keesha, Phoebe and Wanda and would be staying the night at Phoebe's.

Evan smiled and sighed happily as she put her bag of Uncle Ben's Bistro Express in the microwave to cook. Or was it heat up? You never could tell with pre-packaged food.

There was a knock at the door and Evan bounded over to answer it. She yanked the door open to find Tim waiting behind it. She cast a quick glance downward and was glad to see that she did in fact have proper clothes on this time – a blue tank top and white fleece pyjama bottoms.

"Hey, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but D.A.'s not home," Evan sighed.

"I know," Tim replied. "I didn't come to see her."

"Oh," Evan said dumbly. "Well, Mom and Dad aren't home either."

"Evan, why would I want to talk to your parents?" Tim chuckled. "I was actually looking for you."

Evan stood dumbfounded for a few seconds before shaking her head and coming back to Earth. "Come in," she offered. Tim did as he was told and hung his coat and scarf up, following Evan into the kitchen where the microwave had begun beeping.

"Did you want some rice?" Evan asked, pulling her dinner out of the microwave.

"No, I'm fine, thank you," Tim said.

"Stop being so polite," Evan scoffed. "Pull up a chair, open the fridge, something!"

Tim chuckled and sat on a barstool next to the flippant blonde.

"So, what brings you to my neck of the woods?" she asked, taking a bite of rice.

Wordlessly, Tim reached into his pocket and passed Evan a small box wrapped in red paper and a silver ribbon.

"It's really a Christmas gift but I want to see you open it so go ahead," Tim instructed. Evan took the small box from him and unwrapped it carefully. With the paper gone, she saw that it was a simple black box. She looked up at Tim and he nodded for her to open that as well. What she found inside blew her mind.

"Tim, this is gorgeous," Evan squeaked as she held up the necklace she found in the box. It was a white gold chain with a pendant shaped like the outline of a heart. One half was encrusted with diamonds, the other with blue sapphires.

"Merry Christmas, Evan," Tim said, smiling warmly.

"How the hell did you even afford this? Unless… you won the contest!"

"First place," Tim confirmed. Evan smiled brightly and leapt up to hug Tim, knocking the wind out of him. He sat, startled, for a moment before sliding off his stool to stand and return Evan's embrace. He, as discreetly as he could, took a long slow breath to take in her scent. Likewise, Evan also breathed as deeply as she dared without drawing attention to herself.

"That's amazing, Tim," she mumbled, her face still buried in his neck.

Evan sighed delicately as he played with her hair. His hand suddenly stilled and she pulled her head back to look in his eyes. They swam with awe and Evan felt a light blush creep up her neck to her cheeks. Tim hesitantly raised a hand to cup her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. Evan's breath hitched as she brought their faces closer, their noses bumping, lips brushing. Tim finally steeled his nerve and closed the distance, kissing Evan gently as he'd dreamt of doing for so long.

"Evan," he breathed as they broke their first of what Tim hoped would be many kisses. "I really like you."

"Well, that's good, because I really like you too," Evan said, giggling slightly. "Boyfriend."

"Girlfriend," Tim sighed, brushing a strand of hair from Evan's face before leaning in for one more kiss.

**XxX**

"What names have you picked out?" Phoebe asked Ralphie from her seat on the couch next to Arnold.

The gang had gotten together at Ralphie's for one last movie night/sleepover before the break ended, with Dr. Tennelli chaperoning of course. Tonight was an especially special night because Chantal would be calling Ralphie with the results of her first ultrasound. She hadn't wanted Ralphie to go with her, much to his disappointment, but promised to at least call.

"Guys, she's only four months pregnant," Carlos laughed, picking at his guitar from his spot on the floor. "I doubt Ralphie's got some big list of names made."

"Well, actually," Ralphie said sheepishly, blushing. "I may have thought of a few names I like."

"God Tennelli, you've gone soft," Wanda grumbled, sipping her beer, the one alcoholic beverage she was permitted with for the night.

"Let's hear them," Keesha said, grabbing a fistful of popcorn.

"Um, well, I like Lewis for a boy," Ralphie said. The group tried but failed to stifle their laughter.

"What?" Ralphie snapped.

"Sorry, it's just, my grandfather's name is Lewis," Tim laughed.

"Yeah," Arnold said. "Don't get me wrong. It's a nice name, for someone in a senior's home."

"Okay, fine," Ralphie grumbled. "What do you guys think is a good name?"

"Well, it's got to be something timeless," D.A. began.

"But at the same time it can't be too old-sounding," Wanda added.

"And the most important part is for it to be unique," Keesha finished. "The last thing you want is an overused name."

"What about Charlotte?" Phoebe proposed.

"I really like that," Tim said, nodding.

"What? You're gonna name a kid after a spider?" Carlos laughed.

"Why? What name would you pick?" Phoebe asked.

"Tobias," Carlos said, smiling. "It's old and strong but it can be shortened to Toby for when he's younger."

"What about Alexis?" D.A. asked. "Or Cameron?"

"Those are boys' names, aren't they?" Ralphie said, perking up. "You trying to tell me something, D.A.?"

"Actually, they're unisex names," D.A. corrected. "I'm more careful than that."

At that moment, the phone rang. Ralphie jumped to his feet and excused himself, going into the next room to answer. The group waited impatiently. Carlos picked the riff to _Crazy Train_, while Tim busied himself with his cell phone.

"Who are you texting?" Arnold asked curiously.

"Evan," Tim replied, smiling goofily.

"I still can't believe you're dating my sister," D.A. grumbled. "Tell her to mess off! This is a friends day. No girlfriends allowed."

"Hey," Phoebe laughed, holding up her and Arnold's intertwined hands.

"Yeah, well," D.A. stammered. "You're an exception."

Ralphie re-entered the room with a shocked expression on his face. The group instantly quieted.

"Ralphie, is everything okay?" Wanda asked, concerned.

"It's twins."


	10. The End Of Secrecy

**Chapter 10**

**The End of Secrecy **

The group sat around their lunch table, eating and chatting away happily. School had started back up after the winter break two weeks ago. Classes were settled in again and things were going back to normal, or at least as normal as things were in Walkerville.

"So, wait, is it osmosis or diffusion?" Ralphie asked, genuinely confused.

"Ralphie," D.A. sighed. "Osmosis is the… oh God," she gasped grabbing her head between her hands and groaning in pain.

"D.A., are you alright?" Carlos asked, worriedly going to stand beside her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

"My head," she whined, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Is it a vision?" Carlos asked hesitantly, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Yeah," D.A. said, breathlessly. By now, she had begun to attract attention from nearby tables.

"What do you see," Keesha asked gently.

"Panic, and lots of it," D.A. replied, her breaths shallow.

"Why, D.A.?" Tim pressed. "Why is there panic? What's happening?"

D.A.'s eyes widened and she looked up at her friends in fear. "Someone has a gun."

Her friends all stiffened.

"Who?" Ralphie asked, shooting an anxious glance over at Chantal. "Where?"

"That guy, with the red sweater," D.A. said, nodding in the direction of a student was coming out of a nearby classroom. His shoulders were hunched and he looked like death warmed over.

"When does this happen, D.A.?" Wanda asked, coming to her feet.

"Now," D.A. breathed. Ralphie raced over to Chantal while Arnold stood protectively in front of Phoebe, eyeing the shooter warily.

"Chantal, hi," Ralphie said, standing in front of the pregnant cheerleader.

"Ralphie, what are you doing here?" Chantal questioned.

"No time to explain," he said. "Let's just get out of here. Come on."

"I'm not going anywhere," Chantal laughed. "What's gotten into you?"

Before Ralphie could answer, a gunshot rang out and students screamed, taking cover. Ralphie looked over to where the shooter was standing at the head of the cafeteria with his gun raised in the air. He stood protectively in front of Chantal.

"You all think it's fun to just push people around, don't you?" the shooter yelled, his hands trembling but his face set in determination. Determination to kill every last student who'd ever hurt him along with anyone who got in his way.

"You don't want to do this," Dorothy Ann blurted and Ralphie would have sworn if he could find his voice. What did she think she was doing?

The shooter turned his gun in her direction and her eyes widened. Carlos protectively stood in front of her and the shooter snapped his head up to look Carlos square in the eyes.

"Dorothy Ann is right," Carlos said slowly and deliberately, planting suggestions in the shooter's mind. "You don't want to do this. You want to put the gun down and walk away. Put the gun down."

Ralphie saw the shooter's expression falter as he began to lower his weapon and he almost sighed in relief. If there was ever a time for someone to have mind control!

"That's good," Carlos said, continuing to coax him. "Put the gun down. You don't want this."

Suddenly, a girl whimpered and the gunman's attention snapped to her, breaking Carlos's control over him. He turned his gun on her and she whimpered even louder. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, Tim's voice echoed through the cafeteria.

"Hey looser," he yelled. The shooter looked around and saw Tim standing on the staircase. Ralphie wondered when he'd gotten there, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tim's body under their lunch table. Tim was sending out an astral body as a decoy.

The distraught teen shot at Tim twice, but the Tim on the stairs didn't even flinch. The bullets passed right through him and hit the wall.

"Better luck next time," Tim sighed as his astral body disappeared. The shooter stood, perplexed.

"I'm over here now," Tim called. His new astral body was sitting on top of a vending machine. The gunman shot again but like before, the bullet merely passed through him. Astral Tim disappeared once again.

"Behind you," Tim said. The gunman spun around to find astral Tim standing there, smiling. Wanda took this as an opportunity to neutralize him, sending a fire ball whirring towards his turned back. The shooter's sweater went up in flames and he threw it from his body in a panic. He turned on Wanda and Phoebe sighed, throwing off her shirt and jeans.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered as she unclasped her bra and shimmied out of her underwear. In a matter of seconds, she morphed into a large cougar. She ran at the shooter top speed and sank her teeth into his thigh. He screamed in pain and shot blindly. A searing pain ripped through Phoebe's left hind leg and she released his thigh to whine.

"You did not just shoot my girlfriend," Arnold yelled, balling his hand into fists. The ground shook beneath the gunman's feet and the tiles on the floor cracked. He lost his footing and nearly fell but managed to right himself as the shaking stopped. Phoebe's cougar form limped its way over to Arnold's side and she trembled, falling on her stomach.

The shooter tried to raise his gun once more but stopped as a vending machine crashed in front of him, the glass shattering. He looked up warily to see Ralphie seething.

"Put that damn thing down," the father-to-be growled. He effortlessly picked up another vending machine and sneered. "Or next time I won't miss."

The shooter steeled himself and pointed the gun at Ralphie. Without hesitation, he fired.

Ralphie winced, expecting pain, but when he felt nothing, he looked up to find the gunman's hand raised in the air, struggling with some invisible force. He grunted and struggled as he wrestled to gain control. He struck out and the invisible force let out a quite girlish squeak. It looked like with that blow, the shooter would regain the upper hand but suddenly, bleeding claw marks appeared on his cheek as his adversary scratched him. With one final grunt, the invisible force tore the gun out of his hands.

"Ralphie," Keesha called, becoming visible only to reveal a split lip. Ralphie held out his hands and Keesha threw him the gun. With the shooter no longer armed, Tim and Wanda advanced on him, holding him still.

Ralphie caught the gun and made a fist, the metal grinding in his hand. He made quick work of turning the once deadly weapon into an indefinable blob.

"Don't mess with my family," Ralphie said menacingly. The gunman paled.

"Are you alright?" Carlos asked D.A., putting a hand on her shoulder. She broke down in tears and he held her in his arms, letting her cry the stress out.

Arnold knelt down beside his cougar girlfriend, petting her head. Phoebe whined and then howled in pain as she shifted back into a human. Arnold took off his dress shirt to cover her, leaving him in a white undershirt. He whispered comforting words to her before he yelled for someone to call 911.

Ralphie looked back at the woman carrying his children to see her shocked expression.

"Chantal," he began, not knowing what to say. He took a step towards her and backed away, shaking her head.

Looks like their secret wasn't so secret anymore.


	11. Complications

**Hi there. Sorry for the wait. High School is the definition of crazy. It's not even that it's hard, there's just so much work. Anyway, I set aside some time today to get this chapter out so please enjoy and let me know what you think. Feedback is the best gift you can give me. P.S. I didn't get much time to look it over so sorry in advance for any errors. **

**Chapter 11**

**Complications **

Tim, Dorothy Ann and Evan were the last of the group to arrive at the hospital. Ralphie, Wanda, Keesha, Arnold, Carlos and Mikey were all waiting for them out front.

"What took you guys so long?" Arnold asked, shifting anxiously from foot to foot.

"Did you think that Mom and Dad were just going to let us leave after what happened?" D.A. asked rhetorically.

After the gunman had been disabled, all hell broke loose. Students were all panicked and few even dared to look at one of the eight out of fear. When the police arrived, they had a lot of questions the group found themselves unable to answer. With a bit of help from Carlos's ability, they managed to convince authorities that they had disarmed the shooter by sheer luck, but Carlos couldn't manipulate the whole student body. Classes were cancelled for the rest of the day at all Walkerville schools.

The gang had hoped that because the police didn't know about their abilities, no one else would either. They had hoped that they'd all convince themselves that they were crazy and that the stress had made them see things. But to their dismay, every social networking site was filled with statuses and posts about the freaky magic kids. Things were only going to get worse.

"We had to climb out the window," Evan harrumphed. Tim wrapped an arm around her waist and she leaned into him gratefully.

"I'm sure your parents will come around," Tim said to soothe her.

"You know, you guys should have told Evan and me about what you can do sooner," Mikey said. "You know we would have understood."

"We're sorry, Mickey," Carlos apologized. "It's just that we don't know much about what's going on and we didn't want to drag anyone into this."

"It's not that we don't understand," Evan said. "We just want you guys to know that we're here for you now."

"How did Phoebe's Dad take things?" D.A. asked nervously.

"He's surprisingly cool about it," Arnold replied. "I mean, not about her getting shot but about the other thing. We sat him down and explained things to him. He's just happy she's safe and that I'm looking out for her."

"And what about _your_ parents?" Tim asked him warily.

Arnold chuckled humourlessly and ran a hand through his hair. "I haven't even been home yet."

"Who knows Arnold? Maybe they won't have a problem with it," Wanda said. "My Mom just smiled and said that Grandpa Li used to talk about people he had known back in China who could do extraordinary things like this."

"And my Mom was just worried about whether or not I was hurt," Ralphie added. "And a bit angry that I joined the football team when I could have so easily hurt someone."

"She's a wise woman," D.A. laughed.

"Mom and Dad are a little unnerved by the whole thing and Mom won't make eye contact with me, but it could be worse," Carlos furthered.

"Grandma's still kind of oblivious to everything going on," Keesha admitted.

"Yeah, and my parents are choosing to call everyone in town crazy for believing in anything even remotely supernatural," Tim said.

"I guess you guys are right," Arnold sighed. "Let's just go in and see Phoebe for a while."

"How is she anyway?" D.A. asked as the gang walked towards Phoebe's room.

"It looks like she's healing fast," Arnold said.

"Our abilities must include accelerated healing because my leg came out of its cast quite fast too when you think about it," Tim observed.

"I'll have to keep that in mind when I do more research," D.A. mused.

"Um, excuse me, can I help you," a nurse asked, stopping the gang right outside Phoebe's door.

"We're here to see Phoebe Terese," Arnold replied.

"I'm sorry," the nurse said. "You can't all go in there at once. Hospital policy."

"Miss Terese is a friend," Carlos said, making eye contact with the nurse. "Let us in and don't interrupt us."

"Yes, sir," the nurse mumbled, walking away without a backwards glance.

"Damn Carlos, that can really come in handy," Ralphie murmured as Arnold opened the door to Phoebe's room. Mr. Terese, though no one could figure out how, was quite wealthy – Phoebe said it was family money coming from Ireland – and so Phoebe had her own private room. Mr. Terese was sitting by her bedside, holding her hand as she slept. Though she was hooked up to monitors and machines, her cheeks held colour and that was a great relief to everyone.

"It's Arnold and friends, I imagine," Mr. Terese said, cocking his head to one side and listening intently.

"How did you guess," Arnold chuckled.

"Well, not only are there too many of you to be a group of doctors, but I can hear Mikey's wheelchair," he explained.

"How is she?" Arnold wondered.

"You tell me," Mr. Terese said.

"She looks beautiful," Arnold said, honesty evident in his voice. "She's even got her colour back."

"Well that's good," Mr. Terese sighed, smiling lightly.

Arnold walked over to his girlfriend's side and sat on the edge of her bed, taking her hand in his. As if responding his presence, Phoebe's eyes fluttered open and her heart rate spiked for a brief moment.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Arnold asked softly.

"A little sore, but overall, fine," she replied. She then turned her head and addressed her father. "Hey Dad. Have you been home at all yet?"

"Of course not," Mr. Terese laughed. "You know me."

"But you've at least eaten?"

"When they took you in for surgery, Arnold managed to coerce me downstairs to the cafeteria."

"You're such a good guy, Arn," Phoebe said, stifling a yawn.

"If you're tired, go back to sleep," Arnold suggested, stroking her hair out of her face.

"No," Phoebe said. "You guys all came by to see me. The least I can do is stay awake for a few minutes."

"Really, if you're tired Phoebe, we can come back," Keesha assured her.

"It's no problem," Phoebe continued to argue and the group let it drop.

"What you did was really brave, Pheebs," Ralphie said after a moment of silence.

"We were all really brave," she corrected. "It's just that I'm the one who got shot."

"Still, thank you," Ralphie insisted. "I just can't help thinking that if you – all of you – hadn't stepped in to do something... Well, I don't want to think about what could have happened to the twins."

"How is Chantal taking things?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Thirty-seven phone calls later and still no answer," Ralphie sighed. "I just hope she doesn't do anything stupid."

"You don't think she's hurt the babies, do you?" Wanda asked, appalled by the very idea.

"No, I think she's more decent a human being than that," Ralphie answered. "I'm just worried she'll want to call off our deal and give them up."

"I don't think she can legally do that," Carlos assured him. "And if she tries, I'll tell her what's what."

"You can't solve everything with mind control," D.A. scoffed.

"I can try."

"Do you know when you'll be going home?" Tim asked, changing the subject before D.A. and Carlos could kill each other.

"Well, there's no sign of infection and I seem to be healing very well, so the doctor thinks it should be in another three days or so," she replied.

"That's good," he said.

"You know, Mr. Terese, if once Phoebe gets home you need any help, don't be afraid to ask," Keesha offered.

"Oh, I know," he said. "You lot are just the best group of friends anyone could ask for. I'm so glad Phoebe has you."

"Stop it, Dad. You're gonna make my cry," Phoebe giggled, blinking back a few tears.

"I'm just telling the truth," Mr. Terese said.

It was at that moment that the door flew open, hitting against the wall and making an awful banging noise. The group looked over to see Arnold's father standing in the doorway, red-faced and fuming.

"Arnold Matthew Perlstein," his father bellowed. "What is the meaning of this?

Before Arnold could answer, Mr. Terese got to his feet and glared in the general direction of the door.

"No, what is the meaning of this?" he snapped. "My daughter was just shot and you dare come in here and start yelling?"

"You wouldn't be feeling so sympathetic if you knew just what kind of freak your daughter was," Mr. Perlstein yelled.

"I happen to know exactly what kind of _person_ my daughter is and it doesn't bother me in the slightest," Mr. Terese replied coolly.

"Do you really, Mr. Terese? If you could just see her. Sometimes the truth needs to be seen," Mr. Perlstein said.

"I don't need to be able to use my eyes to see that you're an ass," he retorted. Mr. Perlstein stood, baffled by Mr. Terese's outburst. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, quite fish-like.

"If you think you're welcome back in my house, you're sadly mistaken," Mr. Perlstein spat before storming out, slamming the door behind him.

"Hey, Hon, you okay?" Phoebe asked, gripping Arnold's hand tightly and resting her head against his arm.

"Are you kidding?" he asked. "My girlfriend got shot and survived. I'm on cloud nine," he said, holding her closer.

"I love you," Phoebe murmured.

"I love you, too," he sighed.

"Where are you going to stay?" Phoebe wondered.

"He'll be staying with us," Mr. Terese announced, using his no-nonsense voice. "I hope I'm not making any unfounded assumptions, but it's not like Arnold isn't going to be my son some day. May as well start treating him like family, right?"

"Daddy," Phoebe whispered, tears brimming in her eyes.

"What, am I embarrassing you?" he asked.

"No, you said just the right thing," she said.

"Thank you, Mr. Terese," Arnold said.

"It's no problem, son," he assured him. "You're all welcome. Any time day or night. If you need anything, just come on by."

"Over the next little while, we might need a lot," Carlos sighed.

"You'll make it through," Mr. Terese said with certainty. "You're the strongest people I know."

**XxX**

On the fourth day after the incident, Phoebe was finally given the okay to leave the hospital. It was a Saturday, so the gang all came to see her discharged. Arnold held her tightly on one side for support as she stubbornly refused to use crutches of a wheelchair. They were nearing the exit when an alarm sounded. Nurses and doctors alike went running towards a nearby room.

"She's coding," yelled one of the nurses.

"Get a crash cart in here, stat," yelled a doctor.

"What's going on?" Phoebe asked aloud.

"Charging. Clear!"

"The patient is unresponsive. Again."

"Charging. Clear!"

"Still no response. Doctor?"

"She's gone. Call it."

"Time of death, 10:27 a.m."

Shortly after, the group left the room looking dejected and defeated. Phoebe's curiosity got the best of her and she drug Arnold over to get a better look at room. There on the door was a chart and on that chart was a name.

Frizzle, Valerie Felicity.


	12. I Will Fear No Evil For Thou Art With Me

**So, we're going to pretend this is even remotely on time. High School is awesome but I'm lucky if I find time to sleep. And then when I do have spare time all I want to do is something mindless like watch tv or... watch tv. So please forgive me for being so late. Enjoy this latest instalment. **

**Chapter 12**

**I Will Fear No Evil For Thou Art With Me **

"The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake."

The wind blew cold and harsh across the grounds of Walkerville Cemetery. Ten solemn teens hung their heads, each weeping, some silently and others as loudly as the wind itself

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil."

Phoebe leaned gratefully on Arnold, her leg not as sore as her heart. Evan held Tim's hand firmly, pressing lightly against his side. Carlos held D.A. tightly and she melted into his arms, knees giving out completely. Mikey sat beside his brother, a hand on his arm. Ralphie hung his head low from where he stood between Keesha and Wanda, each girl silently crying.

"For thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life."

An eerie silence hung over them as the preacher spoke his last words, seeming to look at each person's soul and heal their wounds, if only a little. "And I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever."

Long after the preacher had left, the ten teens remained, each stunned into silence.

"We should all come by my place," Phoebe said, being the first who dared break the silence. "Dad won't mind. I think we could all do with a hot drink."

They said nothing, but followed her nonetheless. No one really wanted to be alone.

"Dad, my friends and I are here," Phoebe called when she unlocked the door and stepped inside. The front door opened right into their kitchen/dining room.

"Make yourselves at home," Mr. Terese called.

"I'm putting the kettle on. Can I get you anything?" she asked.

"I'll have a tea as long as it's no trouble," her father said. "I'm in the living room, by the way."

"Alight, I'll run it over to you in a second," Phoebe said. "Have a seat," she told the gang, gesturing to her kitchen table. It was cozy and only managed to sit nine because Evan sat on Tim's lap and Mikey had a chair of his own. Once the kettle was on the stove, Phoebe came over and sat on Arnold's lap, all chairs being already in use.

"It's crazy, isn't it?" she said softly.

"What's crazy is that now we have no one to fall back on about this whole powers situation," Wanda growled. Dorothy Ann opened her mouth, most likely to defend their dearly departed teacher, but Wanda cut her off. "We don't have the luxury of grieving right now. We're in some serious shit, if none of you noticed."

"Noticed?" Arnold shrieked. "Wanda, my parents kicked me out! I think I noticed!"

"Not to mention that Chantal still won't talk to me," Ralphie added.

"See," Wanda said. "So what are we doing sulking around going on about _her_ for? We should be out there fixing our problems."

"Wanda, there's a process to grieving. We understand that you're angry," Keesha began.

"No shit I'm angry. It's her fault," she rebuked.

"But it's not healthy to stay angry," Keesha continued. "The anger you're feeling is misdirected. You aren't angry at her, you're angry at God, or the Universe, or whoever it was that took her."

"You don't know what you're on about," Wanda snarled. "She ruined our lives! Sure I'm sad, but I'm also mad at her."

"You can't even bring yourself to say her name," Keesha whispered and Wanda's face fell, her pain becoming obvious.

"Neither can you," she whispered back.

Just then, the kettle whistled, indicating that the water had boiled. Phoebe got to her feet and took out eleven mugs, each bearing a different design. Her family had never bothered to buy a matching set. Phoebe placed a bag of earl grey in a three dimensional teddy bear mug for her father. Her mother had bought it for him the year before her death and to this day, it was still his favourite.

Arnold came up behind her as she added the sugar and placed his hands on her hips.

"Why don't you let me take that to your Dad?" he asked, chin on her shoulder. "You can keep serving the guys."

"Thanks," Phoebe sighed, passing the mug over to Arnold. He kissed her cheek lightly and took the steaming tea down the hallway to the living room where Mr. Terese was curled up in an armchair reading. Arnold had on more than one occasion opened one of Mr. Terese's books in an attempt to decipher Braille and each time he was blown away that people actually managed to read with bumps.

"Arnold?" Mr. Terese asked, turning his head slightly to one side.

"You've gotta stop doing that Mr. Terese," he laughed. "You're freaking me out."

"Sorry," Mr. Terese chuckled. "It's just that you pause just for a second before entering a room. On a hardwood floor like this, it's easy to hear. Plus, Phoebe shuffles her feet and I couldn't think of anyone else that would be coming to bring me my tea in her place."

Arnold stared in amazement for a moment before shaking his head and walking over to give Phoebe's father his mug. Mr. Terese found it with little help and brought it to his lips, taking a hesitant sip. He brought the mug down to his lap and sighed in satisfaction.

"Nothing like a good cup of tea," he said.

"Nothing indeed," Arnold agreed.

"So, are you kids having a fight?" Mr. Terese wondered, having heard Wanda's outburst.

"I wouldn't say a fight," Arnold said, taking a seat on the adjacent couch. "Just trying to work things out."

"How bad is it?" Mr. Terese asked. "I love my daughter to bits, but she has a habit of sugar-coating things for me."

"It could be worse," Arnold sighed. "We haven't been back to school since the incident, so I can't say what it will be like on that front, but everything seems to be working out more-or-less alright at home."

"Except in your case," Mr. Terese corrected.

"A little estrangement isn't the end of the world," Arnold argued. He tried to sound light and unbothered, but his voice quavered a little.

"You're a great kid, Arnold," Mr. Terese said. "I wouldn't want Phoebe to be with anyone else. I mean, I'd honour whatever choice she made, but I actually feel good about her choosing you."

"Thank you, Sir."

"It's not a problem," he said. "You're welcome in my home," he continued. "I know I've already told you, but I want you to know that I mean it. And, just to be getting this out of the way now, you've got my blessing to marry her."

Arnold chuckled a little but quickly sobered up. "Thank you, Sir. I love you're daughter very much."

"I know you do," he smiled. "Now, on that note, there is something we need to discuss man to man."

Arnold stiffened. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

"I'm not stupid," Mr. Terese said. "I know teens nowadays don't wait to get married like we used to in my day. So just be careful, will you. It's a shame what happened with the Tennelli boy. He's a good kid too, don't get me wrong. I think he's a great friend for Phoebe to have. It's just that his future's going to be limited now. So, if it means I have to leave you money to buy the stuff you're going to need, I'll do that. Just no babies until after you're married, promise me that."

"I promise, don't worry," Arnold said. "We haven't though," he mumbled. "In case you were wondering."

"No, I wasn't. Not really," Mr. Terese said quickly. "And it's not something I care to discuss. I already need a bottle of brain bleach just from bringing the subject up in the first place."

"I'm going to head back to the kitchen," Arnold announced, standing. "Thanks for the talk, Sir."

"It's no problem. No problem at all."

**XxX**

On Thursday, two days after the funeral and almost two weeks after their exposure, they communally decided to return to school. Dorothy Ann, Carlos and Tim were the first to arrive and the moment they stepped through the doors, whispers broke out in every direction. Making there way over to the cafeteria to find a seat, they were either avoided like the plague or shot dirty looks. A senior in a letterman jacket went as far as to step in front of them to pick a fight, but a simple _get out of the way_ from Carlos took care of him.

Keesha arrived next, simply appearing out of nowhere at their table. One of the advantages of being invisible.

It wasn't long before Wanda arrived decked out in a reds and oranges. The amount of attention she attracted was ridiculous but for the most part it was just curious, almost admiring looks she was getting with very few murderous glances thrown in. It didn't surprise anyone much. Wanda always knew how to put on a show and be over-the-top spunky.

Arnold and Phoebe came next, Phoebe having reluctantly admitted that she would need crutches to get around school. They were given a wide girth, the student body having been the most freaked out my Phoebe's shape-shifting.

Or maybe not. When Ralphie Tennelli arrived, the school stood absolutely still. Frighteningly still, in fact, and all eyes were on him. And then came, from the center of the crowd, the only person that dared move.

"Hey Ralphie," Chantal said happily, skipping to his side and wrapping one of her arms around his. "How was your weekend?"

"Did I just enter the Twilight Zone or something?" Ralphie asked brows furrowing. "What the hell are you doing talking to me, Chantal? You've been blowing me off for weeks."

"Just pregnancy hormones," she said, smiling sickeningly sweet. "I can assure you, I've come to my senses."

"Now that you know I can lift an eighteen-wheeler?" he accused. Chantal's smile faltered and he knew he'd hit the nail on the head.

"Look Chantal," he said. "I'm not interested in your bullshit. Let's not have this get personal. You have the twins then give them to me. Unless what you have to say relates to the babies, don't say it. I think we're better off that way."

Ralphie gave her a sympathetic smile and walked away, joining his friends at their table. When he sat down, they all gave him a look, but D.A. especially.

"I know, I was kind of hard on her," Ralphie began, getting defensive.

"No," D.A. interrupted, shaking her head. "I was just about to say kudos for standing up to her."

"You did good Tennelli," Carlos furthered.

"Yeah, well I learned the hard way who my real friends are."

**XxX**

On his way down the hallway to his first class, Ralphie bumped into someone – literally.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry," he apologized, looking down to help whoever he'd knocked over to their feet. It was with surprise that he saw a head of copper hair and a tanned face looking up at him.

"Ah! Coach Ryder! I am so sorry," Ralphie babbled, offering a hand to help her stand.

"It's alright," she laughed. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Neither was I," he said.

She smiled and took his extended hand. He softly pulled her to her feet.

"You know, you're awfully gentle for a guy who can throw a vending machine across the cafeteria," she remarked.

"I know how to control myself," he murmured, keeping his eyes downcast.

"It's okay Ralphie," she sighed. "I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Ralphie said. "I'm just taking everything so hard right now."

"It can't be easy for you," Coach Ryder agreed. "Say, Sheena's only a year old," she continued, referring to her daughter. "When the twins are born, if you want to bring them over, they can have a play date."

"Thanks, Coach Ryder," Ralphie said.

"Please, call me Jessica. Well, not while we're in school, but if you see me around town," she offered.

"Will do."

**XxX**

In American History, Tim was finding himself unable to concentrate on his lessons. The drone of his teacher's voice was leading him into this almost catatonic state. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone needed him somewhere. He closed his eyes to try to clear his head but when he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in his classroom.

"Aw hell, I hate when this happens," he sighed, realizing that he had unintentionally astral projected. He realized with surprise that he was standing in what he believed to be the bathroom at Walkerville Middle School. It was almost exactly as he remembered it, except the tiles were blue instead of the yellow he had known. It took him a minute to realize what that meant but when he did, his eyes widened. He was in the girls' bathroom!

"Tim?" someone asked in a shaky voice. He turned to see Evan standing by one of the sinks, her eyes red and filled with tears.

"Ev, hey," Tim said, walking over to get as close to her as possible without touching her. "What's going on?"

"This just sucks," she snivelled. "The day's barely started and already I've had to listen to all this crap about you and D.A. and everyone else."

"Hey, it's okay," Tim shushed. "It's okay, Babe."

"Why are you here anyway?" Evan asked. "Not that I'm not grateful that you're here. God, I've been wishing you were here."

"I didn't do it on purpose," he explained. "But I'm glad I am here. I wish I could give you a hug. Even just wipe away your tears."

He raised his hand to her face and hesitated a moment before trying in vain to touch her.

Evan chuckled. "Call me crazy, but I almost felt that."

He leaned forward and tried to kiss her. For a brief moment their lips met but Tim passed through her just as quickly.

"Now I definitely felt that," she sighed.

Tim felt a niggling little tug at the edge of his consciousness, indicating that his real body was supposed to be doing something and wanted his astral body back.

"I have to go, Evan," he said. "I'll come pick you up and walk you back to your place after school, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed. And with that Tim vanished.

Returning to consciousness in his American History class he saw why his body had brought him back. They were taking turns reading from the textbook and it was almost his turn. He sighed and quickly located which paragraph they were at. With a self-satisfied smile, he licked his lips and remembered kissing Evan, if only for a second. His powers were growing.


	13. Upheaval

**Haha, yeah, sorry. I'm so bad. It's not even that I haven't had time, I've just been working on some original works and I set those as my priority. My bad. Hopefully I'll finish this over the March break. Only one more chapter and the epilogue, probably. Anyway, a small warning. This chapter deals with alcohol and violence and so if that could potentially upset you, I'd advise you not read this chapter. If you won't be overly bothered by the subject matter, then I hope you enjoy. And sorry again about being so late. **

**Chapter 13**

**Upheaval **

A week had passed since the gang's return to Walkerville High. Things were still tense to say the least, but no one was giving them any real trouble. If anything, certain students began looking at them with a newfound respect. Those who could look past their freaky abilities recognized them for the heroes they were. Wanda, to absolutely no one's surprise, had gotten more phone numbers than she knew what to do with. That was Wanda for you.

Sitting down to lunch, the group was surprised to be approached by Arnold's cousin Janet. The nervous redhead was carrying a Wal-Mart bag securely in both hands. She arrived at the head of the table, just across from Arnold and cleared her throat.

"I don't mean to bother you but I just wanted to give you some stuff," she murmured, passing the bag over the table. Arnold took in from her and looked inside, seeing a few of his most prized possessions – rare rocks, pictures of Phoebe and him, his favourite books and clothes.

"My family was visiting yours for supper last night and I overheard your Dad talking," Janet whispered. "I snuck off to your room and picked out some things I thought you might want before your Dad…" she trailed off awkwardly. When Arnold looked at her expectantly, she continued. "He had a little bonfire out back."

"He burnt my stuff?" Arnold asked, his voice tight, stomach somewhere in his toes.

"Sorry," was all Janet could reply. "I got you everything I could smuggle out without bringing attention to myself. Now, I should go before anyone realizes I'm talking with you."

Turning quickly, Janet sped off down the hallway, not so much as taking one glance backwards. Hesitantly, Phoebe placed a hand on her boyfriend's forearm.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

Arnold sighed. "I just want to close my eyes and sleep forever. If this were only just one horrible nightmare."

"It'll get better," Phoebe assured him.

"In time," he agreed. "But I'm just too damned impatient."

"I didn't think Janet would care what happened to your things," Wanda said, changing the subject somewhat.

"She's a good cousin," Arnold sighed. "A bit conformist, but overall good."

"It's the good in the world that you have to believe in, Arnold," Phoebe said softly. "The good always outweighs the bad, no matter how small it seems to be at the time."

"I know," Arnold sighed. "I know. I shouldn't be complaining. We're all in a tight spot right now. I'm just lucky to have such good friends."

"We're lucky to have you too," D.A. said sweetly.

"How are things with you, D.A.?" Arnold wondered. Things were still stiflingly tense at the Hoover household. Arnold had to admit, living in a accepting home that wasn't his own had to be better than living in your own home when you weren't accepted. Tim and Carlos were both worried out of their minds. Tim would often confide in Arnold that he was very worried about Evan's sanity with her being stuck in that house. Tim's own home environment wasn't much better. His parents were in complete denial about Tim's abilities and it was beginning to wear on the artist.

"It could be worse, but it's not all roses," D.A. replied taking a speculative sip of her soda.

"We should do something in town this weekend," Ralphie suggested. "We've been under so much stress lately." On top of everything else, they had just finished writing their midterms. D.A. was completely confident in her achievement but the others weren't so sure.

"A trip to town sounds great," Keehsa beamed, her mood considerably better than everyone else's. Not unlike Wanda, Keesha had gained admirers – or rather one admirer – of her own. She could finally say that she was in fact one hundred percent over Ralphie Tennelli.

"If I can get away," D.A. agreed. Though her words were meant reassure her friends, it did nothing but make their stomachs churn.

**XxX**

Friday night at the Hoover household was so uncomfortable, the tension was almost palpable. Diner was eaten in complete silence, the only sounds being those of cutlery on plates. Mr. Hoover spent most of the meal popping tops on beer bottles. When the meal was finished, D.A. cleared her throat nervously.

"Mom, Dad, could I go into town this weekend?" she asked nervously, shifting in her seat.

"Absolutely not," Mr. Hoover snapped in a no-nonsense tone of voice. His fork clattered noisily onto his plate as he shook in anger.

"What? Why not?" Evan shrieked. "She worked her ass off to study for her mid-terms and now you won't let her out to celebrate?"

"Evan, it's okay," D.A. argued but her younger sister wasn't paying her any attention.

"D.A. worked really hard. You aren't being fair!"

"You think life is fair?" Mr. Hoover laughed humourlessly, standing. "You think it's fair that one of my daughters is a mutated freak and the other dresses like she's auditioning for 16 and pregnant?"

"Jerry," Mrs. Hoover warned, seeing her husband's anger flair up.

"Where did I go wrong with you two girls?" he asked. "When did you become such utter fuckups?"

"Dad, it's not like I chose this," D.A. said, tears welling up in her eyes. Evan, who had stood in outrage, was rooted to the spot in shock at her father's behaviour.

"What freaky magic stuff did that woman get up to with you," her father spat. The way he spoke about Ms. Frizzle set Dorothy Ann's teeth on edge.

"It's not magic Dad, it's science," she argued.

"It's freaky," Mr. Hoover scowled. "I had such high hopes for you, Dorothy Ann. I always figured Evan wouldn't amount to much but you were my saving grace. You're letting me down."

"Take it back," D.A. growled. When her father gave her a confused look, she went on. "Take back what you said about Evan."

"Aw come on," Mr. Hoover laughed, addressing Evan now. "You know you're not as good as your sister, Evie, don't you? You know you're no good."

"Jerry, you will not speak to your daughter that way," Mrs. Hoover said firmly, standing to look her husband in the eyes. They burned with an ill-contained furry and in an impulsive fit of rage, Mr. Hoover stuck his wife across the face, sending her stumbling back and splitting her lip. D.A. protectively put an arm out in front of her little sister, shielding her. It wasn't the first times the girls had witnessed their father's drunken rage but it happened so infrequently they'd almost brought themselves to believe it wouldn't happen again.

"You shut your mouth," he slurred. "This is all your fault. You couldn't even give me decent kids, you damn bitch."

"Dad, stop it," D.A. urged, her knees knobbing slightly in fear.

"You coward," Evan snarled, stepping forward. "You have to go and hit a woman to make yourself feel good? You're a coward."

Quick as lightning, Mr. Hoover backhanded his youngest daughter just as he had his wife. Evan toppled to the floor, her head spinning. Mr. Hoover may have hit his wife before, but he'd never hit one of his kids. It was a testament to how truly angry the youngest Hoover had made him. Evan scrambled to her feet as he continued to advance on her. She could hear D.A. urging her to run in the background and so she did, tearing down the hallway with her father hot on her heels. She threw herself into her bedroom and locked her door just as she heard her father's large weight crash against it.

"Evan Marie Hoover, you open this door this very instant or so help me God," Mr. Hoover bellowed, pounding on the door like a madman. Evan sobbed hysterically, curling up in a circle in the centre of her bed, praying that someone would come to her rescue and make it all stop. She flashed back to earlier in the week when Tim had appeared to her when she'd felt like she'd needed him most.

"Tim, please help me," she cried. "Tim, please, please baby, I need you. Tim, please."

"Evan?"

Evan looked up quickly and a fresh wave of tears washed over her as she saw Tim standing at the foot of her bed. His eyes widened as he registered the pounding on the door and quickly rushed over to Evan's side. He gasped in horror as he saw the bruise forming on her cheek and her puffy red eyes.

"What happened," Tim asked soothingly, making small shushing noises to calm the frantic blonde.

"D.A. asked to go out this weekend and he just went batshit crazy," Evan explained. "He's been drinking. I don't know how aware he is right now. You have to go get help. Mom and D.A. are still out there with him."

"It's okay, Evan, listen to me," Time said slowly. "I'm going to go get help. Hang tight and I'll be right back."

Evan nodded but Tim could still see the fear in her eyes so he went out on a limb and tried to kiss her. Their lips connected with a bruising force and Evan immediately relaxed. Pulling back, Tim cradled her cheek and placed a delicate kiss on her forehead before disappearing.

Meanwhile, Dorothy Ann was fearfully standing in the dining room with her equally terrified mother. They listened as Mr. Hoover pounded on the door, yelling obscenities.

"Aren't you going to do something?" D.A. finally asked, though quietly.

"Do what exactly, Dorothy Ann?" Mrs. Hoover snapped, also deathly quiet. "You don't honestly expect me to stand up to him when he's like this, do you?"

"Yeah, I do," D.A. replied. "Maybe not to his face, but call the police, get help. You're not going to just let him pound on Evan's door all night, are you? He hit her!"

Mrs. Hoover said nothing in response. Instead, she looked down at the floor as though it were the most interesting thing on Earth.

D.A. scoffed. "What a pushover. No wonder Dad takes all his anger out on you. You don't do anything to fight back. If you can stand living that way than so be it but it disgusts me that you'd let Evan or I get hurt to save your own skin. Who's the real coward?"

Again, Mrs. Hoover said nothing. The two women remained silent, the only sounds filling the room coming from Mr. Hoover's fists. In time, those died down and were replaced with angry footsteps coming into the dining room.

"Get me a Goddamn hammer," he roared. "Bitch won't open her Goddamn door I'll open it for her."

"Dad, stop," D.A. urged. "Leave Evan out of this. You're angry at me, remember. Because I asked to go out this weekend."

"I'm angry at you because you're irresponsible," her father amended, his voice shaking the whole house. "You went off and got yourself all freaked up. Do you know what the neighbours think, Dorothy Ann? Do you know how humiliating it is to go to work and be the father of _that freak_? Why are you so selfish?"

"Oh, I'm selfish?" D.A. shrieked, completely losing her mind, which probably wasn't the best idea. "You're the one making a big deal out of something that's happening to me! You're my Dad, you're supposed to support me!"

"I will do no such thing," Mr. Hoover bellowed, advancing on his eldest daughter. Dorothy Ann impressively stood her ground, keeping her head defiantly high.

"Then you will pack your bags and you will leave this house right now," she spat, puffing up her chest. "I have been to everywhere from the inside of a rotting log to the far reaches of space. I have survived a volcanic eruption, a spaceship crash and loving my best friend since the third grade. All my life I've been stepped on because I'm that smart, quiet one with no backbone. Well, not anymore. Newsflash, Dad. I can see the future and FYI, you're not in mine. Get out!"

Though her speech was noble, it didn't exactly have the desired effect, unless, of course, D.A. had _wanted_ him to charge like an angered bull.

Just as D.A. steeled herself for the blow she imagined was coming, her father let out a surprised squeal and she opened her eyes to see what was going on. There in front of her with her father in a headlock was a very pissed-looking Tim Jamal. A crash sounded from the porch and D.A. jumped as her front door flew off its hinges. Standing in the doorway were Ralphie and Carlos. Tim was struggling to keep her father under control but Ralphie soon took over for him and left Mr. Hoover completely immobile.

For a second, D.A. thought the stress had her seeing things as she watched a second Tim walk through the doorway. Tim One and Tim Two shared a look before the Tim in her kitchen disappeared. D.A. would have congratulated her friend on his amazing breakthrough of staying conscious while astral projecting but she wasn't able to get a word in before Tim, now whole once more, ran down the hallway to Evan's room.

"You scumbag," Carlos hollered, shaking with rage. "You worthless piece of shit! I cannot believe this. You would hit your own daughter? You disgust me!

"I'd imagine you know who I am, what I can do?" he continued. His words put the fear of God in Mr. Hoover's eyes. "Just think of all the things I could have you do. Should I make you turn yourself in? Or maybe I'll have you drink your own piss. What if I made you walk off a cliff?"

"Carlos," D.A. said weakly. The Hispanic boy turned to look at her and was quite astonished to see her eyes glowing. She looked ravenous and she began nodding her head, feebly at first but they became more vigorous by the second. She wanted him to pay.

Sighing, Carlos turned back to Mr. Hoover and locked gazes with him. "You've had a lot to drink," he said. "I think you should pass out now."

At Carlos' words, Mr. Hoover slumped in Ralphies arms and the ex-footballer let him drop like a ton of bricks to the floor. Tim poked his head into the dining room upon hearing the sound and when he saw that the coast was clear, he led a distraught Evan into the room.

"What did you do to him?" Evan asked warily, looking down at her father.

"Just put him to sleep," Carlos replied. Evan seemed satisfied by that answer and nodded, leaning into Tim's side. Her boyfriend had a pink duffle bag over his shoulder, one they assumed held some of Evan's things.

"The girls shouldn't stay here," Ralphie said. "We should take them back to my place. Mom can look after them."

"No, D.A.'s coming home with me," Carlos argued.

"Carlos –"

"No, Ralphie, I'm serious," he pressed. "D.A.'s staying with me and I need to go home. Mikey's worried as hell right now, I bet."

"Carlos," Tim said quietly. "I don't think taking D.A. to your place is such a good idea. I kinda freaked your parents out when I astral projected onto your dinner table. The last thing she needs is another hostile environment. I'd take Evan back to my place too but you know how things are with my folks. She needs to be somewhere safe, like at Dr. Tennelli's."

"Yeah, it's not the best there right now," Carlos agreed. "So I need to check up on my brother but I am not letting D.A. go anywhere without me."

"Carlos," Ralphie protested.

"It's okay," D.A. said quietly, moving to stand beside Carlos and grasping his hand tightly. "I want to go with him. I'll be fine."

Tim and Ralphie weren't convinced it was the best idea, but they didn't protest and instead let the blonde go pack her bag. When she returned, the five teens headed for the doorway, the door still smashed into pieces on the floor.

"Wait," Mrs. Hoover called. The teens turned to face her and she sighed, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry girls. I never wanted any of you to get hurt."

"It's fine, Mom," Evan said quietly. "We're not mad at you. But if you can't stand up to him that's your problem and not ours. Don't expect us home any time soon."

With those words, the five left the Hoover household, leaving the sounds sobbing to fade in the distance.

**XxX**

Standing in front of Carlos' house, D.A. couldn't help but feel nervous. She wanted to be with Carlos right now, she needed him, but she didn't know how much more drama she could handle. Carlos tried the door but it was locked. He took the spare key out from under the welcome mat and unlocked it, leading the pair inside.

"Hello?" he called. He and D.A. walked into the living room to find his mother and father sitting quietly on the couch holding one another. Mikey was seated in his wheelchair beside them rolling back and forth anxiously. When I saw Carlos, he perked up instantly.

"Hey Carlos, is everything okay? How is everyone? Evan?"

"She's fine, Mikey," Carlos assured his younger brother. "Tim and Ralphie are taking her to stay at the Ralphie's place for a while."

Mikey nodded, visibly relieved. He said nothing however and the room fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Carlos cleared his throat. "Mom, Dad, D.A. needs a place to stay for a while. Can she stay here?" he asked.

"Sure, son," his father said quietly, standing to face him. He hesitantly raised his head to look his son in the eye, a little wary, Carlos noted. His mother made no move to address him.

"Mom?" he asked tentatively. When she didn't reply, he asked, "Mom, what's wrong?"

His father slowly moved to stand beside him. "Carlos," he whispered. "This is a lot to take in. You're mother's scared. We… we both are."

"What?" Carlos breathed. "That's ridiculous. There's nothing to be afraid of. I-I'm not going to try to force anyone to do anything, if that's what you're worried about. I'm your son, you should know that."

"I do, son," Mr. Ramon said, placing a hand on Carlos' shoulder reassuringly. "I know in my heart that you'd never to anything to hurt us. It's just that sometimes, you can have a bit of trouble getting your head and your heart to be on the same page."

Carlos nodded, smiling weakly at his father. Slowly, he made his way over to his mother's side and dropped to his knees before her.

"Mom, you don't have to be afraid of me," he said softly. "I'd never in a million years force you to do something against your will. I love you, Mom, and I respect you. I'd never betray you like that."

Mrs. Ramon still hadn't moved to look at her son and Carlos gently set a hand on her knee. "Ma, come on, look at me."

Tentatively, Mrs. Ramon looked into her son's eyes at last and he smiled at her. "Trata a los demás como quieres ser tratado. Treat others as you want to be treated. You taught me that. Now, if you still think I'd every try to hurt you, then that means you also think that you're a bad role model. If you don't trust me than at least trust yourself to have raised good kids, because you did Mamà. You raised great kids. Not to toot my own horn or anything but, hey."

"Siempre el comediante," Mrs. Ramon sighed, a smile appearing on her lips. "Everything's always funny to you, Carlos, isn't it?"

"It's either you laugh at life or you let it bring you down, that my philosophy." Carlos was smiling too.

"That's funny," Mikey chimed. "I didn't think you were deep enough to _have_ a philosophy."

"Hey!"

"Boys, get along," Mrs. Ramon ordered, smiling brightly now. She leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on Carlos' forehead. "Te quiero, mi payasito."

"Te quiero, Mamà," Carlos replied before getting to his feet and taking D.A. by the hand, leading her to his room.

"I can blow up the air mattress for you now if you want," he said, rummaging through his closet. "I'm sure you just want to sleep after all you been through."

"Actually, Carlos," D.A. said. "Can I sleep in your bed?"

Carlos pulled his head out of the closet to look at her. "Ah, yeah, sure," he agreed. "I don't mind taking the floor. I probably should have offered you the bed in the first place. Sorry, I'm a bad host."

"That's not really what I meant," the blond stammered. Carlos looked at her, confused, so she better explained herself. "I was thinking that maybe we could share. I don't really want to be alone right now."

After Carlos go over the shock of D.A. asking to sleep with him, he nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, no, absolutely. Sure, if that's what you want."

Almost robotically, D.A. opened her bag and pulled out her flannel, plaid pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt. Dazedly, she began to strip herself of her shirt and Carlos quickly looked away, rummaging through his dresser for his own pyjama bottoms and cotton tee. When he heard the springs on his bed creak, he turned to find D.A. already under the cover, half asleep. He carefully climbed in bed behind her and she instantly cuddled into him. He responded by wrapping an arm around her and using his free hand to stroke her hair.

"Thank you," she whispered sleepily.

"You don't have to thank me, D.A.," Carlos replied. "I just want you to be safe."

"You saved me," D.A. continued a bit dazedly. "And you didn't do anything to hurt my Dad, even though I made it clear that I wanted you to. You knew how much I'd regret it, that I'd never be able to live with myself. You saved me then, too."

"I will never let anything happen to you if I can help it," he murmured against her hair. "I want to always be there to protect you. I want to be the guy you come to when you need someone to lean on. I want to make you happy, D.A., and keep you happy if it takes my last breath to do it."

D.A. laughed. "Stop being so sappy. You can't be Mr. Perfect if I don't get to have you. I've wanted to hear you say that for so long. It's not fair that you don't mean it."

"I do mean it," Carlos insisted. "I'd die for you right here, right now."

"Well that's touching, but I'd really prefer it if you didn't do any dying any time soon," she chuckled, her voice slurring in exhaustion.

"I promise, I won't," he laughed too. D.A. didn't say anything after that. Her breathing slowed gradually and after a few minutes, Carlos was sure she was asleep. Still, he couldn't bring himself to stop playing with her hair. She was just so beautiful and so strong. She really blew his mind sometimes.

"You're the most amazing girl," he said, glad to finally be telling her, even if she was asleep. "You have no idea what you do to me. I wish I could work up the nerve to tell you but I always wuss out. How's a guy like me ever gonna win over a girl like you? You're so beautiful and smart and funny. I love you, Dorothy Ann, so much."

"It's a good thing I'm awake then, isn't it," D.A. mumbled. Carlos felt himself blushing seven shades of red and the hand playing with D.A.'s hair instantly stilled.

"Look, D.A. I know you probably don't feel the same way about me but –"

Carlos' frantic attempt at salvaging the situation was cut short when D.A. turned and kissed him hard on the mouth. Without missing a beat, he kissed her back so fiercely he was sure they'd have bruised lips for weeks. When they pulled apart, his mind caught up with his body and he pulled back reluctantly.

"Wait, D.A.," he began. "You've had a really hard night. You shouldn't be making any decisions right now that you might regret later. I can't let this happen; I'd be taking advantage of you."

"You're not taking advantage of me, stupid," D.A. chuckled. "For one, if you think you're getting any further with me than some heated kissing right now, you really are an idiot. And two, I've been in love with you since our days of purple versus violet. The events of tonight are doing nothing to impair my judgement, let me assure me. Now, would you stop being such a gentlemen and kiss me already?"

Carlos smirked. No arguments there.

**XxX**

Jerry Hoover awoke with a start as something very heavy was thrown against his chest. The morning sun was just beginning to shine through the dining room window. What he was doing on the dining room floor he could only assume had something to do with how much he'd been drinking. The events of the night before were fuzzy but he had a sinking feeling in his gut that he'd done something he should be feeling guilty for.

"Get out," he heard a voice say, strong and sure. He looked up from his position on the floor to the suitcase on his stomach and then up at his wife.

"Laura?" he questioned.

"Get out," she said again, this time even firmer. "One too many times I let you push me around, Jerry. Not again. Get out of my house."

"What, you can't just kick me out," he protested. "Who pays the bills around here?"

"I do," Laura snapped. "I work too. I make my own money and now it's time for me to make my own rules. You will leave now or I will call the police," she threatened. It was only then Jerry noticed the phone in her hand. "I'm counting to three and I want you gone before I'm done."

He eyed his wife warily. Surely she didn't have the guts.

"One," she began. "Two."

He didn't stick around to find out.


	14. Inferno

**Not as long a wait this time, see. But still, a wait and for that I'm sorry. I was busy working on writing my own novel, which I finished over the weekend at just under 80,000 words. But now I need to take some time off before editing so I decided to finish up this piece over the Easter week-end. Just on chapter and the epilogue left after this. Enjoy and review. **

**Chapter 14**

**Inferno**

Within a few weeks, things were beginning to work themselves out between the Hoover women. Mrs. Hoover had finally found her voice and filed for divorce. D.A. and Evan decided it was time to move back in and though things weren't running as smooth as they might have liked, it was getting there.

As far as things were going with Ralphie and his baby mommy, they weren't exactly on speaking terms. She'd give him updates every so often but they were strictly baby-related. Her official due date was June 28th but doctors were warning them that because of her age and the fact that she was carrying twins, she risked going into preterm labour. Ralphie wasn't exactly sure what that meant but it had his mother worried and that was enough to worry him too.

The first Saturday evening in March, the group decided to get together and spend some quality time with one another. D.A. could really use the distressing and Evan insisted on having a heart to heart with her mom so Tim was a free man. It took some convincing to pry Keesha away from her new beau – a tall, redhead, Shakespearian connoisseur from her English class named Alec – but they finally managed to convince her to accompany them. Likewise, Wanda had been planning on taking her latest conquest out to dinner, but she had enough admirers that she didn't mind letting the date fall through.

The eight friends took a shuttle bus out to the city and decided the first order of business would be getting something to eat. They decided on a quaint little Greek restaurant with a refreshing atmosphere and reasonable prices. Most of the evening was spent talking and laughing, everyone glad to be normal teenagers for just one night. For desert, they split a plate of baklava and an order of loukoumades.

Of course, because they had the shittiest luck of anyone to ever live, dinner was _not_ the highlight of their evening.

Coming out of the restaurant, they saw three police cars speeding down the street with a fire truck and an ambulance following close behind. Call it heroism, call it insanity, whatever, but without exchanging a word, the eight friends followed the emergency vehicles to their destination.

They lost the cars, but it didn't matter because they were able to follow the smoke in the air from blocks away. When they arrived at the scene, they gasped collectively. There in front of them was a towering inferno, a large apartment complex in flames.

"We have to do something," Phoebe urged, ever the humanitarian.

"Like what?" Keesha questioned. She wanted to help just as badly as Phoebe did, but what could they do.

"It's a fire," Phoebe stammered. "You can get rid of it, Wanda, can't you?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down," Wanda ordered. "I can summon fire, sure, but I've never tried to dispel it before."

"You've got to try," Phoebe urged.

"What if I make it worse?" she shrieked.

"Wanda, please!"

"Fine," the black-haired girl snapped. Taking a deep breath, she raised a hand and focused on the building. For a moment, nothing happened but slowly, the flames started to die down.

"You're doing it," Phoebe squealed excitedly.

"Not fast enough," Arnold said regretfully. And it was true. Though Wanda was helping, she wasn't going to be putting the whole fire out any time soon.

"Don't worry, Pheebs," Ralphie said. "Maybe everyone's already evacuated."

"Carlos, get the scoop on what's going on," D.A. suggested. Carlos nodded and pulled aside the closest police officer.

"I'm sorry sir," the officer began. "You'll have to back away. This is very dangerous."

"Tell me what happened here," Carlos ordered.

The officer looked confused but he did as Carlos asked. "The fire originated on the third floor. Firefighters are having a hard time extinguishing the flames."

"Are all the residents safe?" Carlos wondered.

"According to the evacuees, there are still four people left inside," the officer informed him. "There's a little boy on the second floor, and elderly man on the ground floor and a young father and child on the seventh story."

"Is anyone going in to save them?" Carlos wondered, panicked.

"The fire is too aggressive," he answered. "No one's going in and it's not likely anyone will be coming out."

"We've gotta go in, man," Ralphie said, giving Carlos a meaningful look. Tim thought it sounded too dangerous but Phoebe was all for the idea.

"I can go in and try to keep the fire away from us," Wanda offered. "Can't guarantee it'll be one hundred percent effective but hey, I can try."

"I should go in too," Phoebe said.

"Well, you're not going in without me," Arnold sighed, knowing there was no way to talk his girlfriend out of this.

"I should go in astral," Tim suggested. "I'll be able to walk through things and get places you guys can't reach."

"That settles it," Ralphie said. "Tim, Wanda, Phoebe, Arnold and I will go in and get those people out. Carlos, you stay out here and run damage control with the authorities. I don't think they'll be too willing to let five teenagers walk into a burning building."

"What should we do?" D.A. asked, gesturing towards Keesha and herself.

"Just sit tight," Ralphie suggested before he and the others headed off in the direction of the burning building.

"Hey, where do you kids think you're going?" He officer asked, trying to stop them. Carlos stepped in.

"Let them pass," he said. "You want them to help."

While the officer ordered all the officials to let the group of crazy teenagers pass, Phoebe ducked behind a dumpster and transformed into an Irish wolfhound. Hopefully the size and strength would help them.

Keesha frowned as the watched her friends make their way inside.

"This is bad," she said.

"They know what they're doing," D.A. replied, but she didn't sound convinced either.

Things from the inside of the building were much worse than they had appeared outside. The exertion to keep the flames at bay was already exhausting Wanda and they were only on the first floor.

"Getting the elderly man out first sounds like our best bet," Arnold said. Wanda and Phoebe nodded in agreement but Ralphie seemed unsure.

"I'll go ahead and find the children," Tim volunteered, knowing the safety of the young father and the two kids were weighing heavily on Ralphie's mind.

That seemed to be an acceptable course of action because the group split up then. Tim took the stairs to the second floor. He could hear the small child screaming for his mother and it broke his heart.

"Don't worry," Tim called. "I'm coming to help you. Can you tell me where you are?"

"I want my Mommy," was called back in response.

Tim followed the sounds the little boy was making and traced them to an apartment with the door open. He walked in hesitantly and looked around, finally finding the child curled up in the bathtub with his hands over his ears. He was no older than five with light brown hair and scared blue eyes.

"Where's my Mommy?" the boy whimpered. Tim's heart clenched painfully.

"Your Mommy's outside looking for you," he said, not entirely sure whether or not that was the truth, but what mother wouldn't be outside looking for their child? "I'll take you to her, alright?"

The little boy nodded. Taking the risk, Tim solidified so he could take the boy's hand.

"My name is Tim," he said. "What's your name?"

"Ben," the scared child mumbled.

"Don't worry Ben, I'll get you out of here."

**XxX**

"Is that them?" D.A. asked excitedly, pointing towards the building entrance. Two figures were emerging from the burning building. One was a man in his late seventies and the other was a young boy with brown hair. When she saw the other weren't joining them, she frowned.

"They're going to try to get the woman and baby on the seventh floor," Carlos explained, knowing their motivations.

"What?" D.A. shrieked. "Are they crazy?"

"Come on, D.A., do you think Ralphie's going to let a young father and child get hurt?" Carlos asked. "Think about what you're asking."

"They just, they need to be careful," D.A. said, a furrow in her brow.

"What is it, do you see something?" Carlos asked. Keesha and Tim's corporeal-self moved to stand beside her.

"The third stair leading up to the fourth floor is weak," D.A. said. "But I don't know how to warn them."

"Tim, can you pass the message on to the others?" Keesha wondered. Tim nodded and closed his eyes, concentrating. After a few minutes of silence during which Carlos returned to running crowd control, Tim opened his eyes and nodded.

"They got it," he said.

D.A. sighed in relief but just as soon, her eyes went unfocused once more. "That's the least of our problems," she groaned. "News trucks are on the way. Carlos may be influencing the police, but if we end up on live TV, I don't think he'll be able to help."

"Then we'll just have to make sure the news trucks never get here," Keesha said. D.A. was confused but she watched in interest as Keesha closed her eyes and began breathing deeply. Panic erupted through her chest as the first news truck pulled around the corner and onto the block. However, when the news people stepped out of their vehicles, they stopped, perplexed.

"What's going on?" D.A. wondered as she watched the reporters and camera people walk around the block looking confused and completely ignoring the burning building in front of them.

"I made our problems… disappear for lack of a better word," Keesha said.

"You're doing this?" Carlos asked, once again coming to stand beside the friends.

"I've been playing around with making other things invisible for a while," Keesha explained. "I know people usually thing making things invisible has to do with bending light, but I wanted to see if that was the case. Everyone has a blind spot. I think my ability enlarges the spot to hide the object I want to."

"And that's why we can still see the building but they can't," D.A. realized. "Nice save Keesha."

"Yeah, well, the only save that matters is the one Ralphie and the others are about to make," she said. "Let's hope they pull it off."

**XxX**

"D.A. says to stay out of the sixth floor's west wing," Tim relayed to the group as they rushed up the stair to the seventh floor. Well, to say they rushed would be an exaggeration. The higher up they went, the more warnings D.A. had for them. It was probably far too dangerous to be going up at all, but they were determined to save the residents still trapped inside.

Once on the seventh floor, the sounds of the screaming father and child led them. They arrived at the apartment and the look of sheer gratitude on the man's face made it all worth it.

"Please, help my baby," he pleaded. "Get my daughter out of here."

He was in bad shape. The smoke in halation must have been getting to him. The little baby girl in his arms didn't look much better.

"We'll get you both out," Ralphie promised. He hauled the man to his feet and Arnold took the baby from him, holding her securely.

"Come on guys," Wanda coughed. They too were beginning to feel the effects of the smoke and the heat. They left the apartment and headed back the way they had come, D.A. stopping them for warnings every now and again. When they reached the ground floor, they found that the fire had caused part of the building to collapse. A large slab of stone blocked their way to the exit.

"Fuck," Ralphie swore. He let the man down and let Phoebe support him as he went over to move the rock. It was heavy, even for him. And even if he did manage to lift it, he had nowhere to put it. He'd have to hold it over his head until everyone could make their escape.

"Arn, can you help me out here?" he pleaded.

Arnold tried his best, but instead of moving the stone, the whole building shook.

"You're on your own, Ralphie," he said regretfully.

The ex-football player sighed. "We're going to have to be quick," he said. "I won't be able to hold this thing for a long time. Even if I can manage the weight, the fire is getting to be too much for Wanda to handle. Are we ready? On three."

Ralphie grunted as he struggled to hold the stone up. To get it high enough for people to pass, he had to push through the ceiling. Drywall rained down around them. Arnold quickly walked through with the baby in his arms. Wanda exhaustedly followed behind him. Tim solidified and tried to help Phoebe drag the man to safety but he was like a deadweight.

"Go on without me," he coughed. "I can't move. I'm slowing you down. Just get my daughter to safety, please."

"No," Ralphie protested. "You have to fight, fight for her!"

"I'm doing her more of a favour by letting her escape than I would be if I made you wait and got us all killed," he argued. "Just go, please."

Reluctantly, Ralphie nodded. Tim and Phoebe set him down, crossing under the stone to the side of safety.

"Are you sure about this?" Ralphie asked. Even as he spoke, the building began coming down in pieces around him. The other hurries ahead while he just stood there, eyes focused on the man he would soon sentence to death.

"Positive," he replied. His voice was already failing him as his breathing became shallow. "My wife just stepped out to get some groceries. Heidi, my daughter, she'll be alright, I know it."

"What's your name?" Ralphie just had to know.

"Wesley Keeping," the dying man replied and with that, Ralphie stepped aside and let the stone drop. As he stepped out of the towering inferno, it began to collapse, to collapse down on a man who'd given his own life to protect his child.


	15. New Arrivals

**Ha! Last official chapter. Yay me, I actually finished. Well, sort of. There will be an epilogue to follow either this weekend or next weekend. Enjoy and tell me what you think. And PS bonus points to anyone who can pick up on what I did with the names. **

**Chapter 15**

**New Arrivals **

Thanks to Keesha and Carlos' expert abilities, no one knew how three of the four people trapped inside the burning building had managed to escape. A funeral had been held for high school teacher Wesley Keeping. Ralphie had gone into town to attend. He couldn't get the man off his mind. The closer he came to becoming a father, the more he'd ponder how amazing it had to be to love someone so much you'd die for them. Was that what fatherhood was like? Would he automatically love his kids that much? What if he didn't?

He didn't have much time left to wonder. It was the last week in May and Chantal had just passed the 36 week mark. Doctors were warning that because of her age, she could be giving birth any day. Still, when he received a call Wednesday morning from Chantal's mother as she rushed her daughter to the hospital, Ralphie was caught completely off guard. He wasn't ready to be a Dad. He was having a hard enough time with high school as it was. Could he really do this?

"Don't panic, Ralphie," Ms. Tennelli said as she spoke to her son over the phone. She'd have loved to be there, but she was at work and couldn't get away. Ralphie was alone in the waiting room, waiting. He'd called the gang and they were on their way, but he didn't know what to do with himself until they did. Talking to his Mom helped but soon enough, she had to get back to work.

"Just breathe, Sweetheart, and I'll be there as soon as possible," she promised before signing off.

Luckily for Ralphie, it was then that his friends arrived.

"Congratulations," Wanda shrieked before she had both feet through the door. She pulled Ralphie to his feet and gave him a tight hug. Similarly, D.A., Phoebe and Keesha hugged him as well. Tim and Arnold shook his hand while Carlos leapt into his arms, in a very manly way of course, and slapped him on the back repeatedly.

"Hey, look at you," Carlos laughed. "You're about to have Twin-ellis," he wisecracked.

The gang sighed. "Carlos!"

"It sounded funnier in my head," the Hispanic boy said, shrugging.

A doctor entered the room. She lowered her mask and looked around at the group of teenagers.

"Ralphie Tennelli?" Ralphie stepped forward hesitantly and the doctor nodded. "We're ready to start pushing. She's asking for you."

"Me?" Ralphie asked, stunned. When the doctor assured him that she wasn't joking he followed her out of the waiting room, the other seven anxious teens left behind.

"This is crazy," Carlos said. "When Ralphie comes back, he's gonna be a Dad."

"Wild," Wanda agreed. "I can still remember when we were kids in Ms. Frizzle's old class."

"We've come a long way since then," Arnold mused.

"But some things never change," D.A. countered, smiling at her boyfriend and first love as the par sat in chairs next to one another holding hands.

"Yeah, Carlos is still telling the same old corny jokes," Keesha teased.

"My jokes are funny," Carlos insisted.

"Tim's still into art," Phoebe pointed out, changing the subject somewhat.

"And Phoebe's still an animal rights activist," Tim added.

"Do you think that in some ways, no matter how much we change, we'll always be the same?" Wanda wondered, which got the gang to thinking. Maybe, some ten years from now, they'd be here again, waiting anxiously for D.A. or Phoebe's child to be born. Would they all see the twins off for their first day of school? Would they attend each other's weddings? Would their friendship never change?

"Friendship like this is forever," Keesha said after a moment. "We've been through it all together. Bonds like that don't break. I love you guys."

"We love you too, Keesh," Carlos returned and they all nodded.

The seven friends continued to reminisce there in the waiting room until they heard a throat clearing. They looked up at once to see Ralphie standing in the doorway with a swaddled bundle in each arm. One little head had a pink hat while the other's hat was purple.

"Oh my goodness," Phoebe gasped.

"They're two healthy little girls," Ralphie said, just beaming. "Quinelle Valerie Tennelli," – the one in the pink – "and Wesley Li-Ann Tennelli," – the purple-clad newborn.

"How gorgeous," D.A. cooed.

"Would you like to hold one of the girls, Aunt D.A.?" Ralphie wondered. D.A. nodded and he passed her baby Wesley.

"Phoebe?" Ralphie asked, offering her Quinelle to hold.

"You're so lucky, Ralphie," Tim sighed. "There are people out there who'd give anything to have such happy, healthy children."

"I'm on top of the world," Ralphie agreed. "Scared too, but hey, that's normal, right?"

"We'll be here every step of the way," Carlos promised. "Anything you need."

"What about Chantal?" Keesha wondered.

"She can't sign away her parental rights for at least seven days and she's got a window to change her mind, but I don't think she will," he explained.

"That's really a shame," D.A. sighed. "Children shouldn't have to grow up without a mother."

"They've got plenty of strong female role models," Ralphie said. "I'm not worried at all. I'd rather Quinelle and Wesley grow up surrounded by honorary aunts that love them instead of a mother who hangs around out of obligation."

"Speaking of aunts who love them," Wanda said. "Can I hold one?"

D.A. laughed and handed Wesley off to her while Phoebe let Keesha hold Quinelle. Wanda lit a fireball in one hand and Wesley stared at it intently.

"Wanda, I swear to God, if you burn my baby," Ralphie threatened. Wanda scoffed.

"I'm not gonna burn your baby," she said, drawing picture in the air with her lit finger like a sparkler. Keesha began playing an intense version of _Where's Keesha_, perplexing Quinelle as well.

"These are either going to be the happiest kids in the world or the most scared kids in the world," Carlos chucked, watching as Keesha turned visible once again.

"The happiest," D.A. said, a faraway look in her eyes. She could see the future, and it looked bright.


	16. Epilogue

**Alright, this is officially it. This story is complete. Now, there is a possibility – though a small one – that I will post a few bonus chapters, like more little epilogues, but that won't be for a while. So it might be good to keep this story on alert, though really it may not happen at all. But anyway, thank you to everyone who read this and stuck with it the whole way through. You're support means the world to me, so leave a review, even an anonymous one. Hope you enjoy the epilogue of The Law of Unintended Consequences. **

**Epilogue **

Just over two years had passed since the birth of the Tennelli twins. Quinelle and Wesley had reached all their milestones with a cooing group of teenagers there to congratulate them. Quinelle was the first to talk while Wesley was the first to walk. The iron that Wesley had taken her first steps towards Mikey was lost on no one and it came to no one's surprise that Quinelle's first coherent sentence was directed towards Aunt D.A.

The gang's grade twelve year was finally over and thanks to Ms. Tennelli's help, Ralphie had been able to keep up in his schoolwork and graduate with them. Dorothy Ann of course was top of her class and the others all had great final grades as well. In fact, D.A., Keesha and Tim received scholarships from the university in town.

It was graduation night at Walkerville High and there auditorium was packed with proud family and friends. Evan and Mikey sat smiling in the front row. Evan and Tim were still together, as were Phoebe and Arnold and Carlos and Dorothy Ann. Keesha and her beau had split after a few months, but she wasn't too bothered by it. She'd be meeting plenty of people in University. And speaking of Evan, the young Miss Hoover had found a passion for writing racy romance novels and had recently become a published author. It was already looking like a best seller and it had only been on the market a few weeks.

Tim too had made a name for himself. His paintings and other artistic works sold for good money. He would be using his scholarship to study visual arts and improve his work. Keehsa planned to go into psychiatry, D.A. was an aspiring surgeon and Phoebe would make doctor number three as she would be studying veterinary medicine. For the longest time, Wanda had no idea what she wanted to do but her passion for building and spunky flare had her thinking interior design was the way to go. Arnold too had some difficulty selecting a career. The natural choice would have been to go into geology, but it wasn't a career in high demand. His falling out with his family had inspired him to look into youth and their home environment and, ultimately, social work. Carlos' clear moral compass cemented his decision to go to law school.

And what of Ralphie? He originally worried that the twins would make going to college hard, but Walkerville College had offered free daycare at their school facility if her enrolled and stayed on campus. It was that offer that convinced him to pursue a career as a paramedic.

Graduation night was one of the most exciting nights of their lives. Receiving their diplomas was the next step to the future, to a life of their own. Their abilities hadn't disappeared. If anything, they'd gotten stronger. But that was okay, because they could control them. Their abilities were part of who they were. And though Quinelle and Wesley hadn't shown signs of having abilities of their own, D.A. wasn't ruling out the possibility.

When they received their diplomas and the ceremony was finished, Ralphie and the gang joined up with their families who were waiting for them.

"Daddy," shrieked two very excited little girls as they ran full tilt into their father's arms. Ralphie scooped the up and spun them around, laughing happily.

"Hey girlies," he said. "You guys behaved really well tonight. You didn't give Gran too much trouble."

"No trouble for Gran," Quinelle said, nodding. Quinelle and Wesley both looked a lot like their Dad. They had dark brown hair and brown eyes. Quinelle hair was longer, reaching her mid-back, while Wesley's hair was cut to her shoulders.

"Aunt Wanda," Wesley shrieked, holding her arms out to said aunt. Wanda took her from Ralphie and kissed her cheek.

"Jeez, you're getting heavy kiddo," she laughed.

"Not heavy for Daddy," Wesley said.

Carlos scoffed. "You're Daddy doesn't think an elephant is heavy."

"Carlos," D.A. snapped, hitting him lightly in the arm.

"Hey, Keesh, will you take Quinelle for a second?" Ralphie asked. Keesha nodded and Ralphie passed his daughter off before moving to stand beside a young, brown-haired graduate.

"Chantal," he greeted.

Chantal spun to face him. "Ralphie."

"The girls are here," he said.

"Your girls, you mean," she corrected.

"You can come see them, if you want," Ralphie offered. "I know you must think about them. Just because you gave them up doesn't mean I won't let you see them."

"I'm not interested, Ralphie," Chantal said. "I haven't changed my mind about them. They're yours to deal with. I'm going away to University. Don't contact me."

Ralphie sighed. "If you ever change your mind –"

"I won't."

Without another word, Chantal turn her back to him and Ralphie left her alone. He walked back to his friends and family, the people who really loved him and supported him no matter what. He looked at his two beautiful daughters and he smiled a truly breathtaking smile. Who knew so much good fortune would come from a little trip into space. You've just gotta love the law of unintended consequences.


End file.
